Saving Grace
by Pirate's Wench
Summary: COMPLETE! An excuse to pair a woman up with the sightless Sands. Much banter and...other things - there's even a plot! No flames, please! Please RR
1. Saving Sands

**_Author's Note: _**I'm suffering from a bout of writer's block on my Secret Window story and have been listening to the "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" almost non-stop.  Writing this was inevitable.  It's a total excuse to have some banter with Sands and get him into bed with a chick.  Totally not a Mary-Sue and I'm really not taking it too seriously, but if I didn't write something, I was going to burst.  I've gotten a few laughs out of it – I hope you do the same.  Oh, it gets pretty far out there too – just pretend that the government would do anything in its power to not have to deal with Sands.  Pretty please don't flame me for this, I've never so much as lit a sparkler around anyone's fics.  Thanks!  Oh, my Spanish is reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally rusty, so let's just pretend it's all grammatically correct.  ;-)

***

Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands remained slumped against the wall of one of the buildings in the center of town.  The drugs from his "operation" now wearing very thin, the damage to his body was causing him excruciating pain.

            "Señor Sands," the young boy said frantically.  "Vamos!"

            "Not gonna happen, kid," Sands replied through gritted teeth.  "Fucking town's deserted at the moment…guess interagency cooperation wasn't all it was cracked up to be or I'd be in a fucking hospital right now."  He once again mashed at the buttons on his cell phone, but it was dead.  "Damn it!"

            The boy spotted a woman down the street a ways.  It was the first person he'd seen since Jorge left.  "Señor Sands, una mujer."

            "I don't need a woman right now, I need a…Oh…yeah, go get her."

            The boy ran down the street as fast as his legs would allow him.  He caught up to the woman just before she rounded the corner.  "Señorita, ayúdame por favor!"

            The woman turned, startled.  _Oh crap, Spanish.  Of course I **am** in Mexico.  O.K., either this kid wants something or…_  She thought back to the years of Spanish in high school and college.  _Wow, I really didn't learn more than swearing and…wait, ayúdame comes from ayudar, which means…help!  Ooo, I got it!  Help me, please…_  _Shit, now what do I say?_

            "Señorita, por favor!"

            _Nothing, I just follow and hope I don't get killed or something.  Day of the Dead – literally._  She followed the boy down the street to where Sands was now fully on the ground, groaning in intense pain.  _Holy shit…_  Her eyes were wide, but she was silent.

            "Señor Sands, tengo la mujer!"

            Her thoughts were frantic.  _Have the woman for what?_

            "O.K., and this is helping me how?"

            The boy shuffled his feet.  "Yo no se."

            "Well, me neither," the woman replied, understanding what the boy had said, "but you're American, so yay for that.  What happened to you?"

            "What didn't?" Sands answered coldly.  

            "O.K., bad question.  Is there a hospital around here anywhere?"

            "Si," the boy answered.

            The woman was puzzled.  "He understands English perfectly, but doesn't speak it?"

            "Don't ask," Sands said, "it keeps things moving."

            "OoooooooK…where?"

            "We're pretty far from it.  You don't see a car just laying around unattended, do you?"

            "Uh, lots of ancient jeeps."

            "That'll do."

            "You want to just take one?"

            "Do you really think anyone here's going to fucking mind?"

            "Hey, watch it, buddy," she said, offended by his attitude and language.

            Sands grunted.  "Lady, I'm having a really bad day."    

            "Obviously," she said sarcastically.  "Drug deal go bad or something?"  That got Sands to his feet, as she hoped it would.

            "Fuck you!"

            "Hey, I got you up, didn't I?  I can't exactly carry you.  Now watch your mouth or I'll leave you here."  She put an arm around Sands waist and helped to steady him.  The three walked to one of the jeeps and she helped Sands inside.  "So, um, can you tell me where to go?"

            "He can," Sands replied.

            "I do hope you'll at least translate for me so I don't take five minutes trying to figure out what he's saying."

            "Fine, whatever, just go!"

            She turned the key that was left in the ignition and began to drive, the boy saying directions, and Sands repeating them in English.  The road was bumpy, and the woman had never driven a vehicle even remotely resembling this one, so the ride…was a rather unpleasant one.

            "Jesus, woman!"

            "I'm doing the best that I can.  Ugh, ungrateful bastard."

            Sands couldn't help but laugh.  "Ah, you know me so well already."

            She shook her head and continued to drive and, within a few rough minutes, she pulled up in front of the hospital.  There was some sort of commotion going on, but she helped Sands inside.  "Um, sit here and we'll go, uh…are hospitals here anything like the ones at home?"

            "You talk too much – go!"

            She groaned, not understanding why she even bothered trying to help this mook in the first place.  She followed the boy, but looked back at Sands – he was having trouble finding where to sit…there were chairs all around him.  "What the hell?"

            "No tiene ojos."

            "Whoa, what?"  She understood exactly what he had said – it seemed that the language, or pieces of it, were coming back to her.

            "No tiene ojos."

            "That's what I thought you said."  She looked back again.  The dried blood on his face finally registered with her.  "Thank God for sunglasses, or I really would've freaked."

            "Que?"

            "Nada."

            Once at the desk, the boy explained the situation and a gurney was brought out right away.  The nurse handed the woman a clipboard before going back to her work.

            "Um, I don't know him – I can't fill this out and he…has no eyes."  The boy translated for her.  The nurse looked rather annoyed.  She spouted something off rather quickly, but the woman couldn't catch a great deal of it.  _So, I'm shit out of luck then…I should just go._

            Seeing the look on her face, the boy said, "No vayas."  He looked scared and, for a moment, she wondered what exactly he was to the man she'd brought here.

            "What's your name?"

            "Pelé.  Y tu?"

            "Grace."

            Pelé smiled.  "Alojame?"

            "Sure, I don't have anything else to do."

            Grace sat in the waiting room with Pelé, empty clipboard in hand.  She got food from a vending machine to share with Pelé as they waited.  After a couple of hours, a doctor came into the waiting room.  He had a thick accent, but spoke English.

            "You are here with the man who has lost…his sight?"

            "Uh…yeah," Grace said unsurely.  "How is he?"  _Wish I cared._

"The bullets are out, and he is cleaned up.  We gave him medication for the pain.  It is the best we can do."  The doctor paused a moment, then said, "You may see him."

            "That's really not…"  Pelé took her hand and began to drag her to the recovery room.  "I don't…"

            "Documentos," he said, pointing to the clipboard.  

            "Oh…right."  Reluctantly, she followed Pelé, who was, himself, following the doctor.

            "He is groggy," the doctor warned.

            "Yet oddly coherent," Sands said.  Grace looked at Sands, his sunglasses where on his now clean face.  The doctor left, leaving the three alone.  

            "Como estás?"

            "Been better, kid.  Look, you should, you know, go home."

            "Todavía no."

            Sands groaned.  "Why not?"

            "Me ajetrearo."

            "Don't need to worry about me, kid."

            "Pelé," Grace said.

            "Huh?"

            "He has a name, you know."

            A slight moan of frustration escaped Sands' lips.  "So, you're here too?"

            "Yeah, it seems that there's some pesky paperwork that you won't be able to fill out.  I'll help you, then I'm gone."

            "Damn," Sands said sarcastically.  "And I was really getting to like you too."

            "Shut up."  She uncapped the pen she was given and started asking the questions, she wanted to leave as soon as possible.  "Name?"

            "Sheldon Jeffrey Sands."

            She stifled a laugh.  "You don't look like a Sheldon."

            "Next one?"  She asked his birth date, social security number, address, etcetera – then came employer.  "The Central Intelligence Agency."

            "O.K., if you're not going to take this seriously."

            "Es verdad," Pelé said.  

            Sands had a smug half smile on his face.  "Happy?"

            "Great," Grace answered, "killing you would be a federal offense."  She wrote down the rest of his information and left the room to return it into the front desk. 

            After Sands was sure she was gone, he said.  "So, does she look as annoying as she sounds?"

            Pelé smiled.  "No.  Grace es…"

            "Grace?"

            "Si, su nombre.  Ella es muy bonito."

            "Well, too bad that information doesn't exactly have any hold on me in my…new condition."

            "O.K.," Grace said as she reentered the room.  "Your crap's turned in and I'm out of here."

            "Look, can you do one more thing for me?"

            She rolled her eyes.  "I haven't done enough?"

            "Pretty please?"

            "Ugh, what?"

            "Make a call for me.  The government may care about where I am."

            "I highly doubt that – they stuck you here, didn't they?"

            He smiled.  "Mexico's my beat, Grace."

            Grace looked at Pelé.  "Had to tell him, didn't you?"  He giggled.  "Fine, _Sheldon_, gimme the number."

            "Sands – never Sheldon."

            "Whatever.  Number?"  He told her the number and she scribbled it down.  With a final grunt, she left the room.


	2. Good News, Really Good News, and News Fr...

Grace placed her collect call to Washington and, after several redirections, finally spoke to Sands' superior.

            "This is Harold Rawlings," he said in a slightly agitated tone.

            "Wonderful," Grace said sarcastically.

            "Pardon me?"

            "Sorry, sir," she said quickly.  "Um, I don't really know how to go about this, but my name is Grace Milano.  I'm in Mexico and I sort of brought one of your agents to the hospital."

            "Would that agent happen to be Agent Sands?"

            "Uh, yeah."  She heard the man sigh heavily on the other end.  "Bit of a nuisance, is he?"

            "That's why he's down there and not up here."  The man was quite candid – which surprised Grace immensely.  "What happened to him?"

            "I'm not exactly sure of _all_ of the details, sir."  She told him how she found him and about his current "condition."

            "Ms. Milano, may I call you back?"

            "Well, I wasn't planning on staying here…"

            "The government can make it worth your while if you do."

            "Huh?"

            "Remain at that hospital and I will call you back within the hour."

            She sighed.  "All right."  Both hung up and Grace went back to Sands' room.  She smiled as she said, "I don't think they like you too much."

            "I'm perfectly aware of that," Sands spat.  "But I have free reign down here, so I don't really give a fuck."

            "Hey, the language."

            "Why aren't you gone, hm?"

            "I have to baby-sit you for an hour.  Your boss requested it."

            "Wonderful."

            It was only then that she realized Pelé was gone.  "Um, where'd Pelé go?"

            "I sent him home.  I don't need a kid hangin' around me."

            "You're not exactly the greatest role model anyway," she replied.

            "What's your problem, lady?"

            "My _problem_?  I'm helping an ungrateful bastard when I'm supposed to be on vacation."

            "Who the hell goes on a vacation alone?" 

            "Nobody."

            "So where is he?" 

            "Not a he, a she…"

            "Ooo, kinky," Sands interrupted.

            "Bite me.  It's not like that and it's none of your business."

            Sands sighed.  "Well, you have to tell me _something_ about yourself – you know things about me."

            "I'm not obligated to tell you anything.  You are the single most agitating man I've ever met and it's hard to feel bad for you in the slightest."

            "I didn't ask for pity."

            "Well, good, 'cause you're not getting any."

            "Ms. Milano?" the doctor said, entering the room.  She turned.  "There is a phone call for you."

            "Thank God."  She left the room swiftly.  "Hello?" she said, holding the receiver tightly.

            "Ms. Milano, Harold Rawlings again, I've a proposition for you."

            _Oh, already not liking how this sounds._  "Um, O.K."

            "We don't have the manpower to take care of this situation at the moment, but we will by the end of the week.  We are prepared to pay you if you can, well, keep an eye on him for the week."

            "Uh, look, I've been around this guy for a couple of hours and…"

            "He's very hard to cope with, I know, but given his condition, he shouldn't be a…"

            "Is this even legal?  I mean, paying someone to watch over an agent?"

            "We will arrange for you to get to a larger, more civilized city, make more than suitable hotel arrangements, and pay you ten thousand dollars."  

            "Are we talking American money?"

            "Of course."

            "Is this guy psychotic or something?  I mean, why on earth…"

            "Miss Milano, Agent Sands is good at what he does, well, at least he _was_ – we need to decide how to go about things with him now.  This is a very generous offer, but should you wish to pass…"

            "I don't," she blurted.  _I don't?  Hell, money's money, right?  I can handle him for a week…I think._

            "Wonderful.  Your things will be moved from your hotel and transportation will be provided at the time of Agent Sands' discharge."

            "My things?  How do you know where…"

            "Thank you, Ms. Milano."  The line went dead.

            "This is somewhat creepy," she said to herself.  "But it _does_ make up for getting screwed over by Cassie."  She walked back into Sands' room, an arrogant smile on her face.

            "My boss?" he asked.

            "Hm mm.  I've got good news…_really_ good news…and news from hell.  What'll it be?"

            "Trying to be cute?"

            "Nah, just trying to make this situation a bit more bearable."

            "Fine, the 'news from hell' first."

            "I'm in charge of you for the next week."

            "What?!"  Sands was immediately upset by this newfound information.  "You're fucking kidding me!"

            "Hey, I'm not much happier about it…well, that's a big fat lie, actually.  See, the _really_ good news is that I'm getting paid for it."

            "Lazy ass bastards can't come down here and get me…I can't believe they stuck me with…paid?  You're getting paid?"

            "Ten grand," Grace said smugly.  "And now that I think about it, aside from that mouth of yours, how bad can you be?"

            "I've controlled more downfalls than…"

            "Which brings up another point.  I don't think they want you staying here.  I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that you seriously pissed off a lot of people."

            Sands shrank back into his pillow a bit.  "Set 'em up, watch 'em fall.  That's how I keep the order here."

            "Well, from the looks of it, you didn't 'keep the order' too well today.  What did you do to lose your…"  Grace felt an instant stab of guilt from what she almost said so nonchalantly.  Sure, he wasn't the most congenial person she'd ever met – but nobody deserved to have their eyes removed from their head.  "Sorry," she said softly.

            "I trusted the wrong woman," Sands said, his tone not changing.  "So why the hell should I trust some chick off the street?"

            Grace's temper flared.  "Hey, you make it sound like I'm some sort of…Remember, I could have left you there!"

            "Yeah, well, maybe I could've had a nice slow death."

            Grace took a deep breath, then took a piece of gum from her purse  "I'm going to enjoy my upgraded vacation, despite the fact that I'm going to have to listen to…hmm…they didn't say anything about not being allowed to gag you."

            Sands laughed.  Her thoughts rivaled his own.  Had he been in this situation, he would have been thinking the same things.  "You ever screw a blind guy before?"

            Grace nearly choked on her gum.  "Excuse me?"

            "I'm willing to bet you're doing your best not to smile."

            Grace blushed.  _How'd he know that?_  "Conceited much?"

            "I also bet I broke through some of the tension."  He straightened himself up a bit.  "I have to spend the next seven days with you, right?"

            "Seems to be the case."

            "Well, I might not have enough insults for a hundred sixty-eight hours without repeating myself, so what do you say we cool it for a bit, savvy?"

            "Savvy?  Who the hell says…"  She sighed.  "O.K.  I'll knock it off if you do."

            Sands smiled.  "You didn't say what the first 'good news' was."

            "I'm not sure I should now – could violate our, um, accord."

            "One more, then."

            "I was right – they don't like you."  Sands laughed again.  "What's so funny?"

            "I already knew they didn't like me, but that's not why I'm laughing."

            Grace crossed her arms.  "What is it then?"

            "I've got stitches and…you're in charge of seeing to my needs, are you not?"

            "I…I guess so."

            "Then I have two words for you, Gracie: sponge baths."


	3. You Have No Eyes!

Grace had fallen asleep in Sands' room and woke up paying for it the next morning.  Her entire body ached from sleeping upright.

            "Rise 'n shine, Gracie," Sands said.

            Grace rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  "How are you so…ugh."

            "Well, there are two factors.  Number one: pain meds.  Number two: I'm going to have a woman waiting on me hand and foot for a week."

            "I'm not your slave, Sands," Grace said sharply.

            "Not yet," he smiled.  "Doc says our ride's here."

            "Huh?  You get to leave already?"

            "No room at the inn.  Besides, there's not much else they can do.  Sooo…"  He attempted to get out of bed and almost fell.  Grace jumped to her feet and helped him.  "Aw, you care."

            "They won't pay me if I let you break yourself even more than you already are."  The traditional hospital gown then drew the attention of Grace's eyes.  She blushed as she caught sight of Sands' "assets."  She cleared her throat.  "Let's close this," she said, pulling the material together.

            "I'm not shy," Sands replied, a large smile on his lips.

             "Are you anything _other_ than impossible?"

            "Nope."

            _Damn…Why is it that I'm starting to…not hate him as much._  "Ugh…come here."  Grace helped Sands into a wheelchair that had seen better days.  She wheeled him out into the hallway, through the waiting room, and onto the sidewalk.  A town car with blackened windows awaited them.

            "You're my chauffeur and everything," Sands said with a sigh.  "This arrangement might not be bad at all."

            Grace groaned as she helped Sands into the backseat of the car.  "I'm not spending every minute of the next seven days with you – be aware of that."

            "Aw, come on, Gracie…"

            "And why do you insist on calling me that?  Gr-a-a-a-ce.  Say it with me now…"

            Bluntly, Sands said, "I like Gracie better."

            Grace slammed his door, then got in on the other side.  She tried to sit as far away from Sands as she could, but he moved closer to her.  Nonchalantly, he put his hand on her thigh.  He felt a cool material, which he guessed was silk, then bare, firm flesh.  Grace slapped his hand away.

            "You had your eyes taken out of your skull yesterday…yet I get the feeling you are – and always have been – a horny bastard!"

            "Ah ah…now I'm a _curious_, horny bastard.  Gracie likes skirts, hm?"

            An inaudible grumble came from Grace.

            "Me too."

            "Who the hell do you think you are?  You can't just…Just because you're…You can't!"

            Sands smiled and leaned in closer to Grace.  His voice was a husky whisper when he said, "The blind need to see with their hands, Gracie."

            As much as she didn't want it to, the tone he took caused her body to shiver.  "You…you haven't been blind long enough to have the need to see _that_ way.  How is it that someone can have something horrible happen to them and still be so…_you_?"

            "I've been down here long enough to see – and cause – things you couldn't fathom.  I got off easy."

            "You have no eyes!"  She quickly bit her lower lip.

            "I'm perfectly aware of that!  Can we leave the gaping holes in my skull out of this?!"

            Grace's face turned red with anger.  "Isn't that what we're fighting about anyway?"

            Sands opened his mouth to say something, but paused.  "Uh…maybe?"

            Grace wanted to be angry – really – but at the moment, she couldn't do it.  She laughed…a lot.  "O.K., that was your one free feel, got it?"

            "What if I'm really _really_ good?" he purred.

            "Sheldon," Grace said, warning in her voice.  He fell silent.  "I won!"

            Sands didn't say anything, but he mouthed, "No, you didn't."

***

**_Author's Note:_**  Yes, short, but I laughed quite a bit…heehee.  More to come!  I feel that I'm relieving stress by writing this – woohoo!


	4. Tension

Using a much nicer wheelchair, provided by the new hotel, Grace wheeled Sands into their suite.  She looked around and the first word from her mouth was, "Plush."

            "Nice setup, huh?" Sands asked.

            "Oh yeah," Grace replied, smiling.  "Definitely a plus side to this whole thing."

            Sands chuckled.  "Like you needed any more of a plus than me?"

            "Honestly, how does someone become…"

            "Ah ah ah, Gracie.  We had a deal."

            "But you just…"

            "I'm allowed to think highly of myself – that's not fighting with you." 

            Grace groaned.  "Fine…but I certainly don't have to agree with your opinions."

            "Come on, Gracie, gimme a chance to prove I'm right."

            Grace put her mouth next to Sands' ear and blew in it – just for a second – before saying, "No."  _Hm, did I just break any rules?_  She watched as Sands' mouth twitched.  _Who cares?_

            "Someone's a bit of a tease," he replied.

            "You know, I can't help but wonder what your outlook on life's going to be once those little blue pills are gone."

            "They left my most important body part in tact, Gracie.  I'll be just fine."

            Had the guy not gone through so much physically, she would have slapped him in the face, but at the moment, that was just far too cruel.  Instead, she went for a verbal attack.  "I suppose it wouldn't have been fair for them to take away your best friend, huh?"

            Sands was silent for a moment, then said, "Well, any friend of mine is a friend of yours too."

            That was it.  If she didn't put him in his place now, the entire week was going to be full of one sexual innuendo after another.  She stood directly in front of Sands and, even though there was no point, put herself at eye level with him.  "O.K. Sands, before I decide to castrate you myself – which I don't believe the government could actually object to – I have to tell you that…"  Her speech was cut off when Sands managed to grab her hand.  "Hey!"

            "Shh…"  Sands lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.  Grace was silent.  _That's right, sugarbutt…_  He turned her hand over and let his lips feel their way to her wrist.  He felt her shiver before she pulled away and stood up.

            "Huh uh…No way, buddy!"

            "What's the matter, Gracie?" he asked, smiling.

            "There's no way in hell you are even going to think about _attempting_ to charm me, got it?  You are _not_ some debonair, Casanova-ish guy – and if you think that for one _moment_ I'd believe you were, then you're just as psychotic as I originally assumed."

            "You assumed I was psychotic?"

            "Duh."

            "Very mature response," he said, shaking his head.

            "Shut up!"

            His voice taking the tone he'd used in the town car, Sands said, "You jumped on the defensive pretty fast.  What brought that on?"  He smiled.

            "You're one of those fuckmooks that goes into a bar and picks up the first semi-attractive breathing piece of flesh he sees, heads off to a sleazy motel, has his romp, and sends her packing…"

            "Um…yeah, that's about it, basically.  I must say I admire – and use – your word choice.  You're not exactly as innocent as you make yourself out to be."

            "I'm not making myself out to be anything!  You're a…"

            "Face it, Gracie, I've got you hot and bothered."

            "What you have gotten me is annoyed and frustrated!" 

            In one swift movement, Sands stood and placed his hands firmly on Grace's shoulders.  To say she was shocked would have been a terrible understatement.  After a second of stabilizing himself, he put his mouth dangerously close to hers.  "You have to live with me for the next week if you want your payoff.  So, one of two things is keeping you here, and, at the moment, it's not me.  I could change your mind about that in a heartbeat, Gracie."

            "I…I'm not sleeping with you," she stammered.

            "Funny how that was the first thing that came into your mind, isn't it?"  He very slightly pressed his body against hers.  He heard her breath hitch.  "I'm not so sure I'm the only one here with a disadvantage."  

            "Stop it," she whispered.

            "Is that what you really want, Gracie?"  He did his best to judge how far away his lips were from hers and moved so that they deliberately, but barely, brushed together.  He then pulled back, smiling.  "O.K. then."  Could he have seen her trying to fight off her disappointment, his victory would have been greater than it already was.

            Grace swallowed.  "I…you are such a…"  She walked to the door of the room, then turned around.  "Your ass is still hanging out, Sands.  Have fun trying to find your stuff."

            "You're leaving?"  There was a trace of panic in his voice.

            "I'll be back…eventually."  

Sands heard the door close.  True, he had no idea what his surroundings held, but he let those tiny fears wane and thought about Grace.  "So turned on, she had to leave," he chuckled to himself.  "We _will_ have to take care of that eventually."


	5. Wicked Woman

            Realizing she'd left everything in the suite, Grace paced the lobby of the hotel.  She hadn't changed her clothes and wanted nothing more than a shower at the moment, but all of that would just have to wait for now.

            _The nerve of that guy!  Thinking he can just manipulate me like that…  Who the hell does he think he is?  You know, not having eyes is a turn off…for most women and…Christ!  What am I thinking?  I need to stop thinking about him, period!  O.K., not thinking…not thinking...I bet they were a really deep brown…Ah, Grace, knock it off!_

            She looked around and realized that she couldn't go anywhere looking how she did, or without any money – thank goodness for the included bar and food service at the hotel – so she spent some time down by the shore.  As she let her feet dig into the sand, she had a thought – one she was more than eager to share with the horny agent upstairs.  She rushed up through the lobby, then up to her floor…only then realizing that she hadn't taken her key with her.

            "Shit," she mumbled.  She could have, and probably _should_ have, gone downstairs and explained her situation, but she was tired and feeling a bit lazy…and didn't want to forget what she had to say to Sands.  She knocked and heard him groan.  "Sands, let me in."

            "Use your fucking key!"  His tone was _not_ what she had expected. 

            "I don't have it – it's in there with you."

            "Well, I can't see the fucking door, so go and get another one!"

            "You know what, Sands, you are positively annoying! I'm starting to wonder if Sands is really your last name or if you picked it! And you wanna know why? Because, when you go to the beach, sand can be really irritating, you know? It sticks into places that just drive you nuts and you just never seem to get rid of all of it until you're back at home and…" The door opened. Sands had hoped she'd rant enough to be able to follow her voice to the door.

            It took you that long to think up some sort of retaliation?" Sands asked.

            Grace was speechless – not because of what he'd said, but because of what he was wearing. "Pink is…a good color on you, Sands." He was standing before her in her knee-length, pink, satin robe.

           Sands reached for Grace, pulled her into the room, and shut the door before anyone else could see him. "I couldn't find my stuff and…well, you just had to go and leave instead of admitting…"

            Grace put her finger to his lips.  "O.K., I'm sorry that I left you totally helpless…"  _I am?_  "…but you really crossed the line."

            "Yeah well…how long were you gone?"

           "About two hours."

           "In that time, I realized that I shouldn't piss you off again – for a little while at least. I have to learn the layout of this place and…find clothes that aren't so feminine."

           "So you're through with being a pig?"

           "I will be," he smiled.

           "Will be?"

            Sands reached into the pocket of Grace's robe and pulled out a red, silk thong. "I don't have to see to figure out what this is." 

Grace smiled. "And you'll never see me in it – live with that." 

"True, but I know a bit more about you now. Tiny little silk panties…I bet you are an absolute tigress." 

She rolled her eyes. "I just have to live with this for a week, don't I?" 

"'Fraid so, Gracie." 

"O.K., you know what? I will. I will put up with every remark, every innuendo, and every other little annoying thing you do…"

"You will? Uh, why?" 

Grace's answer was simple. "To be better than you." 

"Oo…ouch." He smiled. "Do you think you could find something a little more mine for me to put on?" 

"Hmm…well, let me take a shower and we'll s…I'll help you."

Though he wouldn't admit it, Sands was so glad that she didn't finish saying "we'll see." "Not before?" 

"You can wait." She took Sands' hand and guided him to the couch. She sat him down and put the T.V. remote in his hand. "Listen to something until I'm done, all right?"

Sands smiled.  "You really _are_ starting to care."

Grace shook her head. "Only as much as I have to." 

"How 'bout a sponge bath when you're done?"

"And suddenly I care less."  She left the room, a smile on her face.  She turned on the shower and shed the skirt and top she had been wearing since early yesterday morning.  She was more than glad when she stepped under the steaming stream of water.  _He has to be uncomfortable.  He was out in that heat yesterday, then the hospital…Maybe I should…Helping him feel better isn't anything bad.  I mean, I don't want to do it for the sake of doing it…I think…I hope.  _She finished her shower and – seeing as Sands was in her robe – she wrapped a towel around her body.  She combed her hair, then went back out into the living room area.  "Sands?"

He turned in the direction of her voice. "Yeah?"

           "Um…" She sighed. "Are you feeling a bit…less than fresh?"

           He laughed. He wanted to say, "Want to see me naked, huh?" but he bit it back…for now. "You're caring again."

"Just a little. Try not to get used to it."

Sands stood, his muscles very obviously aching. "So," he said, tugging at the belt of the robe, "should I drop this?"

            "Um, no. Where exactly are your stitches?" 

           Sands took a minute to answer. "My left arm and both of my upper thighs. Being shot doesn't seem so bad considering…"

           Grace interrupted him. "If I get some plastic to wrap around your thighs, we can get you in the tub."

            "Oh, could _we_?"

            "You'll be wearing trunks," Grace informed him.

           "Don't have any."

           "Convenient gift shop in the lobby."

           "Damn." A thought then struck him and he smiled. "What are you wearing?"

            She smiled back.  "A towel."  Realizing that it didn't much matter what she was wearing, she let the towel drop to the floor – knowing he'd hear it.  "At least I _was_."  She watched as Sands inhaled rather deeply.

His voice was breathy. "I was right about you."

"Are you sure I'm telling the truth?" He nodded. "Curious?"

"You have no idea."

She bit her lower lip. "Well, I'll just leave you alone with that thought while I get dressed and go back downstairs." She picked up her suitcase, went into the bedroom she chose as hers and got dressed. When she reemerged, she found Sands right where she had left him. "You all right?"

"Are you dressed?"

"Mm hm."

"Then I'm fine."

She walked over to him and touched his shoulder.  "I _will_ miss this on you."

Sands smiled. "You've only been around me for a day…and you're playing the game so well."

           "I'm a quick study, Agent. Now, be a good boy and I'll be back in a few minutes."

           "And if I'm bad?" he asked, suggestively.

           "Then you keep that 'less than fresh' feeling for the week." She picked up her room key and left.

           Sands stayed where he was, a smile plastered to his face. "Wicked woman…God, I love it."

***

**_Author's Note:_** So, how do you guys like it? I'm having a blast with this and I hope you're all enjoying it! Thanks for the reviews! Keep 'em coming, please!


	6. The Bath

Grace returned ten minutes later, Sands' new trunks, a few other items of clothing, and several plastic bags in hand. Sands was sitting at the table that was next to the room's kitchenette. "Ready to suit up?"

           "You're really gonna make me wear a bathing suit?"

Grace laughed. "I really don't want to be introduced to your 'friend.'"

"You just keep telling yourself that, Gracie."

           She shook her head and turned him around. "Come on, you." After guiding him to the bathroom, she handed him the trunks. "O.K., I'll go outside and you put those on, all right? And no telling me that you have them on and…and being naked instead."

            "Think you know me so well already, huh?"

"Uh huh."

           "And it appears you do."

"You're not exactly hard to figure out…at least the perverse side of you."

"That part of me's always been an open book, Gracie."

           "Yeah well, I tend to like dust covers myself."

            Sands laughed. "Witty too. O.K., I'll be good and put them on."

         "Thank you." She left and Sands, after a bit of difficulty, changed into the trunks.

"All right," he groaned. Grace walked into the bathroom and couldn't say much. His physique was…very appealing to the eye. His body was well toned and tanned…she found herself fighting to speak. "What's the matter, Gracie?"

"Uh…nothing. Better than pink that's all."

           "Oh? And what color did you put me in?"

           She smiled. "Yellow – bright yellow."

"Yellow? So I can look like a banana when I'm out on the beach?"

"Who said anything about the beach?"

"You are going to take me out there, aren't you? You can't keep me in here for a week!"

She laughed. "Easy Tonto, I'll take you out as long as you behave yourself?"

           "Tonto?"

            "Eh, it just came out.  Come here."  Grace put the lid on the toilet down and sat him on it.  She looked at his thighs.  _God, I could just lick…Whoa!  No, no, no!  Stupid!  Bad, Grace, bad!_  "Uh, I'll be really gentle.  I promise."

"I like it rough."

           "So I should squeeze really hard around these wounds?"

           "Funny, Gracie." 

           "I try. I'm going to wrap your arm first, O.K.?" He nodded. Leaving the gauze in tact, she wrapped the plastic bag around his arm, tying it very carefully. "That wasn't so bad, huh?"

"You seem to be good with your hands."

Grace rolled her eyes. "Do you ever stop?"

"Nope. Hey, can we get some grub up here when we're done?"

            She laughed.  "I guess I should feed you, huh?"  She looked at his legs again.  _God, I have to push up his trunks.  There's not underwear…under there._  "Um…O.K., I have to touch…No horny comments, all right?"

"Just be easy on the goods, Gracie."

"Are you deaf too?"

"Hey, all I said was…"

Grace grunted, then pushed up the right leg of his trunks. Her hands got dangerously close to his "goods" and he flinched. "Oh, did I hurt you?"

_She honestly didn't…it wasn't on purpose.  Of course it wasn't…not yet anyway._  "Um, no.  I'm just a bit sore."

"Sorry." Her voice was genuinely apologetic.

           "It's all right."

After a few minutes, his legs were wrapped and Grace was filling the tub. Once that was done, she took Sands' hand and helped him into the water. He sat and sighed when his aching body hit the warm relief. Grace dipped a washcloth into the water, lathered it, and began to wash his back. More satisfied sounds escaped from his lips. Grace was gentle, fully aware of how sore he must have been. She washed his back, neck, and arms, then handed him the washcloth.

"You're stopping?" he said, not sounding cocky, but disappointed.

"You can handle your chest and legs, can't you?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah." He washed his chest and legs, then froze for a moment. Grace had begun to wet down his hair. "What are you doing?" 

"You shouldn't strain that arm. Hope you don't mind girly shampoo."

"You're gonna wash my hair?"

Grace laughed. "Yeah – it's looking rather greasy." She worked a lather through his hair, massaging his scalp as she did so.

"Jesus, Grace…"

She smiled. "You're just a puppy dog aren't you?"

"Not fair – you have me temporarily…uh…"

"Even at a loss for words, huh?" She grabbed the showerhead and detached it from the wall so she could rinse out the shampoo. "I think I washed out a few layers of Mexico."

"Uh, Gracie?"

"Hm?"

"Could you, um…scat for a minute?"

"Why?"

"I wanna wash…the boys." The hesitation in his voice told Grace that there was more to it than that.

           "Sure. Thanks for the warning." She stepped out the room and with a moment heard him cursing.

           "Fucking hell…"

Without thinking, she rushed back inside. "Are you all right?" Sands had his hands over his eyes – or, where they would have been.

"I'm fine, I…I dropped my glasses in the tub."

"Oh. Let me get them for you."

           "No, you can…" But her hand was already in the tub, picking them up. She dried them off, and handed them back to him. "Thanks."

           "Do you want me to go again?"

"Could you just turn around for a sec?"

Understanding, she did as he asked. "Sure." 

He put his glasses on and said, "All right. Help me out?"

"You know, you're being really good all of a sudden."

He forced a smile. "Don't get used to it. Pills are wearing off and I'm feelin' the burn."

"Well, I'd rather have you obnoxious than in pain." She helped him out of the tub and cautiously dried around his wounds. "I got some, uh, looser clothes downstairs. You can't really run around in tight jeans with those stitches."

Sands smiled. "Careful, Gracie, you're really losing your edge."

***

**_Author's Note:_** Yup, I went away from the humor for a little bit…I'm actually taking this a bit more seriously now…but don't worry, the comments will fly again! 


	7. Porko Pebble

Sands emerged from the bathroom wearing black, lightweight cotton pajama bottoms and…nothing else.  His hair was wet and his sunglasses were on his face.  Grace couldn't help but think that he looked like perfection.

            _Stop looking at him like that!  He's an arrogant, self-centered…Why does he have to be attractive?  It's just not fair!_

            "Couldn't get the shirt on," Sands said, interrupting her thoughts.  "My arm isn't agreeing with me at the moment."

            "You're probably more comfortable anyway, huh?" she asked him.

            "Yeah, and you get to have an exquisite view for the day."

            _See, arrogance!  Totally takes away from the attractiveness…well…a little at least._  "Is arrogance a prerequisite to be in the CIA or something?"

            A faint smile crossed Sands' lips.  "No, just one of the perks of being me."  His voice wasn't as sure as it had been earlier, which led Grace to believe that he was, indeed, "feeling the burn" of his injuries. 

            "Sit down and I'll get your pills, O.K.?"

            "Yeah…thanks."  He sat on one of the chairs at the table and looked as though he was fighting to keep from rubbing his legs.

            Grace went in search of Sand's medication and found the bottle in the bag of extra dressings from the hospital.  She read the bottle, which was, very thankfully, in English, and returned to Sands.  "You have to take these with food, so I'll order up for us.  What would you like?"

            Sands wasted no time in saying, "Puerco pibil."

            "Huh?"

            "It's good, trust me."

            Could she have seen his eyes – had he _had_ eyes – Grace was sure that they would be reflecting some serious discomfort.  "Anything else?"

            "Tequila with lime."

            Her eyes grew wide.  "Huh uh.  No way, Sands."

            "Why the hell not?"

            "You are on some pretty heavy painkillers that say in giant bold letters, 'DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL' – and even if they didn't…"

            "You can't tell me I can't have…"

            "The last thing I need is for you to go into some, um, some sort of arrest or something…or get really out of control or…Dammit, I don't have to explain why!  I'm just putting my foot down!"

            "Oo…controlling…Do you own a whip, kitten?"

            She'd never admit it out loud, but that comment made her feel a lot better.  For a moment, she was really beginning to worry about him.  "Maybe I do."  Sands made a growling noise, which caused Grace's flesh to rise.  Quickly, she picked up the phone and dialed room service.  "Hello…I'd like to place an order for room 502…Yes…Um…I'd like the shrimp fajita platter and, um, porko pebble."

            Sands shouted.  "Puerco pibil!"

            Grace laughed.  "Excuse me, puerco pibil…No, we have drinks in the fridge up here…"

"Bring tequila with lime!"

"Ignore that request, please…Half an hour?…Thank you."  She hung up the phone.

            "God help you if they bring me rocks, Gracie."

            She smiled.  "Oh, I was only trying to piss you off, Sands."  She went to the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of Sprite.  "If you want lime tasting stuff, then you'll settle for the nonalcoholic kind."

            "What fun is that?"

            Grace shook her head.  "Absolutely impossible," she muttered.  She poured the drinks into glasses and gave him one.  "Here."

            "When can I drink again?"

            "You can drink right now."

            "I mean the good stuff."

            "When you're off your meds, which won't be for a while.  You have the pain killers as well as the antibiotics to fight off any infections and…"

            "Hey, Gracie?" Sands interrupted.

            "What?"

            "Do you…"  He stopped and nervously took a swig of his drink.  

            "Do I what?"

            "Nothing."

            "Sands?  You all right?"

            He rubbed his forehead.  "Grub won't be here for a while…I think I wanna lay down."

            _That is so not what you were going to say._  "O.K.  Bed or couch?"

            "Your bed or mine?" he smiled.

            "Yours," Grace replied sternly.

            "Couch then."  Grace helped him to the couch and he exhaled gratefully when his back hit the cushions.

            "Going to sleep?"

            "No.  Not until I get those little blue pieces of heaven into my system."

            "Well…I'm going to unpack while we wait for dinner.  Do you want me to put the T.V. on?"

            "Nah…but is there a window or door or something that goes outside?"

            "Uh huh.  There's a glass door that leads out onto the balcony."

            "Can we…you…see the ocean from this room?"

            Grace's answer was soft.  "Beautifully."   

            "Could you open that door so I can hear it?"

            Grace felt a piece of her heart shatter for Sands.  "Yeah."  She walked to the door and opened it.  The sounds of the people below as well as the surf soon filled the room.

            Sands sighed heavily.  "Thanks, Gracie."

            Grace wiped away a tear.  "No problem…Uh, call me if you need me."  She disappeared into her room.

***

**_Author's Note:_**  Remember, this story is classified as humor and romance…gotta have a little serious time.  Like it?  I really really hope you do!


	8. Stealing the Pork

            Grace sat on her bed for a moment, unable to hold back a few more tears.  Sands was arrogant, raw, and, from what she understood, had done some rather despicable things…but she couldn't help herself from feeling heartbroken for him.  Yesterday he could see the ocean…  Today, he had to settle for hearing it.  She closed her eyes, and focused on the darkness before her; she tried to keep them closed, but couldn't.  They opened again and she saw light, furniture, walls…as hard as she tried, she could _not_ fathom opening them and seeing only darkness – but for Sands, that darkness was going to be eternal.

            She began to unpack her things – still wondering how they got from her old hotel room to the town car.  A thought then came to her mind: Cassie.  Grace and Cassie, Grace's best friend (more like her former best friend now), had decided to vacation in Mexico together.  They planned their trip for months, then on the third night of their stay, Cassie ran off with one of the waiters from their hotel.  She left a note saying something along the lines of, "Off with Miguel – have fun!"  The next morning, Grace had found Sands.

            _Wonder if I should bother trying to call her?_  She put the last of her clothes into the dresser, deciding that she'd simply leave a voicemail message on Cassie's cell phone.  She picked up the bedroom extension and dialed.  She was dumped directly into Cassie's voicemail.  _Good, I was worried that hell might have frozen over and she'd answer._

            Cassie's message was short and to the point.  "This is Cass, you know what to do."

            "Hey, Cass, it's Grace.  You know, the person you came to Mexico with?  Look, I…I'm at a different hotel.  I figured it wouldn't matter since you bailed on me anyway.  Just wanted to let you know I'm not dead or anything.  See ya."  _Wow, I sounded pretty bitchy.  Oh well…_  She heard a knock at the door then, the food came a bit faster than she thought it would and she was grateful; Sands needed his medication.

            She quickly made her way to the door, and a middle-aged man brought their meals inside.  Grace signed for his tip and walked Sands' plate over to the couch.  She placed his meal on the coffee table and he sat up.

            "I can eat at the table," he said softly.

            "Stay here, Sands, you'll be more comfortable.  After a few bites, I'll give you your pills and…"

            "You'll eat here too, right?  I mean, you wouldn't want me stabbing myself with the fork or anything, would you?"

            "Well, that might not be such a bad thing," she joked.  "But, again, the government could get on my case, so I guess I will."

            Sands smiled.  "You're getting a bit too serious with me, Gracie.  What's wrong?"

            "I just know that…you have to hurt a lot.  Not fair to be cruel when you're not being the same way."  She got up and retrieved her plate.

            "No tequila?"

            "Drop it."

            He smiled.  "Yes, ma'am."  He felt around for his fork as Grace took a seat next to him; she was about to hand it to him when he found it.  Grace smiled.  "I may ask you to do something for me if this pork is too good."

            "Oh?  What's that?"

            "I may give you one of my guns and ask you to shoot the cook."

            Grace was unsure of whether he was joking or not.  "Be honest with me.  Are you a psychopath?"

            He shrugged and smiled.  "Guess that's all up to your perception, Gracie.  Eh, since I'm assuming that where we are is more of a resort than anything, I'll let it slide this time."

            "You've really done that haven't you?" Grace asked, wide-eyed.

            "Just keeping the balance."

            "Should I be running out the door?"

            "Nah…"  He thought a moment.  "Well, actually, if you'd be running out the door of this room, but into my bedroom…"

            "And he's back," she laughed.  "I was wondering where you went."

            "I knew you liked me."

            "No, I just think I'm more comfortable with 'raunchy' you than…freaky 'kill the cook' you."

            "I'm a man of many flavors, Gracie.  Want a taste?"

            Grace laughed.  "Hmm…don't mind if I do."  Grace reached over and stabbed her fork into Sands' pork.  "Mm, not bad."

            "Hey!" he said, trying to sound angry.  "Don't touch a man's pork unless he offers."

            "You asked if I wanted a taste," she replied innocently.

            "Of me, Gracie, not the pork."

            "Oh…I misunderstood."  _Test the waters…he might just be all talk.  God, what am I thinking?_  She leaned in closer to him and felt her heart rate increase.  _Grace, you are a stupid woman._  She let her lips touch the side of his neck , her tongue swirling in a quick circle around the flesh there, then pulled back.  _Shit…shouldn't have done that.  Say something that shows you weren't being serious._  "Eh, the pork's better."  _Yeah, that was good, Grace._

            Sands took a bite of his food, acting as though nothing had happened.  After swallowing he said, "Well, I don't have anything to compare it to at the moment."  _My God, woman…you're killing me.  First you stand a few feet away from me - naked…then you bathe me…now this?  Not giving in to you, sugarbutt.  It has to be the other way around._  He heard a rattling and knew that Grace was getting his pills.

            "Be a good boy and take these."  She took his hand in hers and put the two pills in his palm.

            "No coaxing needed, Gracie."  He immediately put them in his mouth and gulped a mouthful of Sprite.  "Do your thing, boys."

            "They might make you drowsy."

            "Well, if I get tired, you'll just have to tuck me in, won't you?"

            "I'll help you to your room – you'll tuck yourself in."  The two finished their meals, trading a bit more banter as they ate.  Grace found herself wanting to hear him talk; she was growing quite fond of the sound of his voice.  _I'm being such an idiot._  

            After they had finished, Sands was indeed feeling the effects of the drugs.  Grace did as she said she would, helping him into his room and getting him situated.  

            "King-sized?" Sands asked, referring to the bed.

            She shook her head.  "Yeah."

            He stifled a yawn.  "Mm…Gracie, the fun we could have…"

            "Sands, you couldn't handle me in your condition."

            A wide smile appeared on his face.  "That sounds very much like a challenge."

            "Good night, _Sheldon_," she said leaving the room.

            "I still say you're a tease!" he shouted after her, chuckling.  _Won't be long…_

            Despite how exhausted she was. Grace wasn't ready for bed.  She went back out to the couch and turned on the television.  There was a decent selection of movies to choose from and after finding one she liked…she fell asleep in the middle of it.  She was in a dreamless sleep when she was awoken.  Sands was screaming…    


	9. You're Not Getting My Eggs

            Grace ran into Sands room.  In the moonlight, she could see that he was sitting up, shaking terribly.  _Oh, God…Did the meds do something to him?_  She rushed to his bed.  "Sands?  Sands, what's wrong?"

            His voice was unnerved and terrified.  "I have no fucking eyes!  I opened my eyes and there weren't any there!"

            Grace panicked for a moment.  _What do I do?  What do I say to him?  Shit…_  "Sands, calm down.  You have to remem…"

            "Who the fuck are you?"

            She put her hands on his arms, attempting to still him.  "Sands, it's me, Grace…uh, Gracie."

            He struggled for a moment, then settled down.  "Gracie?"  He began to let his body lean into her a bit, then quickly realized his glasses were off.  "Tell me the fucking light is off."

            Grace shrank back a bit.  "It is."  Sands breathed a sigh of relief.  "What happened?  Are you all right?"

            Sands felt around and found his glasses on the bed.  He put them on, then said, "Just a moment of me freaking out.  I haven't really slept, you know?  I've been sedated…just forgot what happened for a minute.  No big fucking deal."

            "Sands, you were practically shrieking…"

            "I'm fine!  You don't need to coddle me!"

            Grace got up off of the bed.  "I'm not coddling, I'm just…Well, if I started screaming in the middle of the night, wouldn't you worry about me?"

            "I only worry about myself."

            "Oh," she said softly.  "Well, then…you just enjoy freaking out alone."  She left the room, slamming the door behind her.  _Why did I slam the door?  Now he's going to think he hurt me…meaning he'll think I have feelings for him or something…Wait…Am I hurt?  Shit, I am.  O.K., just forget about it.  He's not the type of guy I should consider to be attractive or alluring at all.  I helped him though.  He shouldn't be so…  I bet he's the "I don't need anyone" type of guy.  Yeah, that's it.  Fine.  I'm only in this for the money…I'll keep telling myself that anyway._  

She went to her room and changed into a short, satin nightgown, then crawled into bed.  She fought the best that she could, but exhaustion and the cruel treatment from Sands – when she only tried to help him – got to her.  She cried into her pillow, making sure that Sands wouldn't be able to hear her.

            Sands was still sitting up in his bed.  He rubbed his temples for a moment, then felt around his eyes.  "They're not coming back, buddy," he muttered to himself.  

_I shouldn't have said that to her, she was only trying to help.  I don't **need** help though.  I've been in this fucking country alone for…  It's all a game anyway.  I have no fucking eyes…The only person I'll be laying is myself.  I can still kill…sort of…A blind assassin? CIA won't go for that.  Christ, I'm pitying myself!  Knock it off, Sands!  Why couldn't some fat slob of a fuckmook have found me instead of her?  Between these drugs and her…I'm losing my edge…I'm losing my fucking self!  Hell, she's in it for the money – just like I'd be._  

He sat up a bit further, his feet almost swinging off of the bed.

No, I am not apologizing.  I have no eyes, I've been shot, I'm in a shitload of pain – I have every right to be a son of a bitch!  That's what I am!  She was set up and…I let her fall.  Dammit…  If I go in her room…if I can find her room…No.  I refuse to do it.

He reclined against the pillows and forced himself to sleep.  He finally knew what guilt felt like…and he didn't care for it at all.

The next morning, he stumbled out of bed, bumping into just about everything on the way. 

"Ow!  Fucking chair!…Jesus!  Damn dresser!"

Grace could hear him, but made no move to help him; she was busy cooking breakfast for herself.  Not able to sleep in, she found that she was able to order food to stock the small kitchen to avoid calling room service for every meal.  She was making scrambled eggs and Sands could smell them as he floundered his way to the bathroom.  When he finally appeared in the living area, Grace didn't even glance at him.

Guilt was still eating at him and he had no idea how to begin to approach the situation.  "Uh, breakfast?"

"Uh huh," she answered coldly.

"It…um, it smells good."

"Uh huh." 

"So, um, I guess you ordered room service?"

"Huh uh.  I'm cooking it."  She looked at him and said.  "I'd offer you some, but I only worry about myself."

"O.K., I deserved that."  He found the counter and put his hands on it, guiding himself around to the other side of it.  Grace simply watched him.  "I'm sorry."

"And that sounded so very heartfelt," she spat.

Sands groaned.  "I think you're the first person I've said those words to in the past ten years or so – and meant them  – that really should mean something."

"My taking care of you should mean something too!  You are ungrateful to the largest extent I've ever seen!  It sounded like someone was killing you, for Christ's sake, and all I did was…"  Sands had made his way to Grace and slid an arm around her waist.  He turned her to face him and heard her swallow.

"You cared," he whispered.  "I'm supposed to be on my own Gracie, looking out for myself…I am sorry."  Hoping that he judged correctly, he moved his face closer to hers and kissed her.  He parted her lips with his, but didn't go any further.  Instead, he waited for a response.  

Grace pulled away from him – the single most difficult thing she had ever done.  She took a second to calm her nerves.  "You…you think that you can just kiss me and that makes me forget what an ass you were to me last night?"

"Well, you liked it, so, um, yeah?" 

"I did not!"

"Oh, please," he said, laughing.  "You can't be serious!"

"Why not?"

"The sexual tension here is more obvious than the fact that I'm missing my eyes!"

"I'm not even sure that makes sense!"

Sands was flustered.  "So you got no enjoyment from that?"

"Did I kiss you back?"

"Not the point!"

"Pig!"

"Tease!"

And in unison, they both yelled, "Fuckmook!"  Both started to laugh uncontrollably.

Sands caught his breath.  "Where've you been all my life?" he asked, sarcastically.

"In your wildest fantasies," Grace answered, still laughing.

"Are you still mad?"

"Did you mean your apology?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to be like you were last night anymore?"

"No…I am really sorry.  I did have a really shitty couple of days..."

"I know…"

"…but I won't change anything else."

Grace sighed.  "All right, then I'm not as mad."

"And you liked it?"

She avoided the question.  "You're still not getting my eggs…"  He frowned.  "I'll make you your own when I'm done."

"So, when are we gonna cut through all this bullshit and hit the sack, Gracie?"

She whispered her answer in his ear.  "When you stop asking."


	10. Tension, Banter, & a Banana

            Grace did as she said she would and made breakfast for Sands.  Somehow the awkwardness was gone and the two fell back into their naturally banter-filled state with each other.  

            "Sands, how can there possibly be any 'sexual tension' when you don't have a clue as to what I look like?"

            Sands smiled after swallowing a forkful of eggs.  "From the size of your robe – not to mention your kinky underwear – I know you're not or a cow or anything."  Grace groaned, but Sands continued.  "So, that's a big plus right away.  Then there's the fact that not only smell good…"

            "You've been smelling me?"

            "Not the point I'm trying to make…"

            "Smelling me?"

            He laughed her off.  "Let it go, Gracie."

            "That's like…"

            "You smell good, deal with it.  Would you rather I tell you that you reek?"

            "Well…no, but…"

            "O.K., on to other things then.  You're so much like me that I can't help but find you to be…"

            "Whoa, like you?  Using one vulgar – though very fun to say – phrase, does _not_ make me anything like you!"

            "You're quick witted…"

            "I have _actual_ human emotions…"

            "…you're kinky…"

            "Underwear proves nothing!"

            "…you certainly got a kick out of giving me a bath…"

            There was a moment of silence, then Grace laughed.  "O.K., you're trying to convince me that I'm like you, so I _think_ you're citing that you must enjoy giving yourself a bath…Do you see something wrong with your persuasion?"

            "Not at all – I'm an incredible specimen and I already miss myself."

            A very loud growl emitted from Grace.  "You're arrogant and self centered…"

            "At least I admit it.  I bet that you're one of those chicks that thinks she's a real gift to the men in the world, but acts like she's some little shy thing that lacks any sort of confidence and…"

            "Sands, you know nothing about me!  I could go into any bar in this country and I would never have to leave alone if…Oh…shit…"

            Sands smiled proudly.  "See, you're _very_ much like me, Gracie.  You gonna be able to live with that?"

            "I highly doubt it."

            "Well, you're safe for the next six days – I won't tell…Of course, in order for me to keep that little secret, you may have to keep my lips busy."

            "Be honest with me, do you _ever_ stop?"

            "Nope."

            "Do you ever have actual conversations that hold _any_ meaning?"

            "If the conversation includes anything about cash or information that I need in order to get cash, then yes.  Otherwise, this is as good as it gets, Gracie."

            "So, am I going to end this week knowing anything other than the fact that you work for the CIA and that you lost your eyes someplace in this country?"

            Sands finished his eggs, taking his time before letting a single word pass his lips.  He knew that Grace was still standing next to the counter – he hadn't heard her move.  He rose from his seat and, without much difficulty, stood in front of her.  He wrapped his arms around her, slightly surprised that she didn't back away.  He put his mouth next to her ear and lowered his voice to the most seductive of whispers.  "Well, I will gladly give you _every_ opportunity necessary to let you get to know my body as intimately as you like."

            Grace smiled and let her hands move to Sands' bare chest.  Her fingers trailed down to the fine trail of hair just below his bellybutton before she said, "You know, that offer _is_ very tempting…"  She nuzzled her face against his, and let her teeth graze his earlobe.  "…but I make it a habit not to sleep with strangers."

            She'd managed to make Sands' body go slightly rigid, but he brought himself back to the moment.  "I'm no stranger, Gracie."

            "Really?" she asked, her hands now wandering his bare back.  "All I know is that you're Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, you work for the CIA, and you lost your sight.  You've already told me that that's all I get to know…"

            "I…I didn't say those exact words…"

            "Oh, well of course not – but that's what you meant, isn't it?  You see, Sands, I _could_ go into any bar and leave with, most likely, anyone I'd choose to, but I wouldn't.  Do you know why?"  Unable to speak, Sands shook his head.  "Unlike you, I want to know the person I share my bed with.  In that instance, I'm _nothing_ like you."  She ran her fingers through his tangled hair.  "Since I don't get to know you…well, I believe you understand what I'm getting at."  She pulled away from him and walked toward her room.  "Think about that for a while, will you, Sands?  I'm going to change into a _very_ skimpy bikini and head down to the beach."

            _She's not going to win.  I'm not going to let her think that she's got me all…Christ, I want to pin her down and…_  "Care for the company of a banana?"  _Smooth, buddy…_

            "Depends…can I peel it?"

            _She won't admit it yet, but I'll be damned if she isn't my female equivalent._  Knowing exactly what Grace's "peel" question was referring to, Sands smiled and said, "We'll see, Gracie.  Maybe I'll let you know a little something…if I can have a little something."

            "Fair enough."


	11. Taunting

            "People are going to think we're a couple or something if I keep holding your hand like this, Sands."  The elevator doors opened and she helped him out.

            Sands pulled his hand away, but he was smiling.  "Fine, then.  Let go.  I told you that I don't need to be coddled."

            "So, you'll be fine with the set of steps here then?"

            Sands paused.  "Where?"

            Grace laughed.  "Eh, about a hundred feet to your left…and they go up."

            "You're cruel."

            "You need coddling."

            "You _do_ know how much I want to…"

            "Watch it."

            "…stick my feet in the ocean, right?"

            "I believe that statement was going to be about sticking a different body part someplace else, but I'll let it go."

            "You're a peach, Gracie."

            She smiled.  "Come on, Mr. Tally Man."

            "Tally Man?"

            "Yeah, you know, bananas?  Your trunks?"  She grew embarrassed.  "Huh…must be the heat here…"

            "You know, I usually don't go for the cute ones, but," he reached around and playfully slapped Grace's rear, "I'll make an exception."

            "You just touched my ass!" Grace said as they walked out the large glass doors that led to the pools and the beach.

            "I did.  And now I can safely call you 'sugarbutt.'  I bet I could bounce a…"  Retaliating, Grace repeated the action on Sands.  "Mm…she's rough."

            "You weren't supposed to like it, but I suppose I should've known better."

            "You have the biggest smile on your face right now, don't you."

            "No," Grace lied.

            "You don't play poker, do you?  Even your voice gives you away."

            "Fine, I'll admit that you have a very touchable ass, happy?"

            "Very."

            They walked outside and Sands was thankful to feel the sun beat down on him.  This heat was much different than the "I'm wearing a horrible disguise and I'm sweating my ass off" heat.  Had the circumstances been slightly different, this would have been like vacation heat – where you want to be out in it as much as you can be.  He heard the sounds of the Latin music coming from the speakers around the pool, the laughs of the families that were there, the gulls, the surf…He could almost picture it.

            "You're too quiet," Grace said.  "What's up?"

            "Huh?  Nothing…"  He quickly recovered.  "Just thinking about the moment when you'll cave in to me, that's all." 

            "On that note, I'm going to go and get myself a nice, alcohol filled margarita.  And you can't have any."  Sands' pouted, sticking out his lower lip and Grace couldn't help herself.  "I know you're doing that on purpose."  She caught his lip between her own and gently suckled it for a moment.  She pulled away and said, "For the record Sands, I can assure you that my body wants to do far more than that with you, but that damn mind of mine is getting in the way."  She went over to the bar and ordered her drink, leaving Sands standing alone.  

            "O.K….I'm going to freak right out if I can't get into that woman's bed."

            Grace returned with two drinks in her hand.  She handed one of the glasses to Sands, who still seemed slightly frazzled.  "You can pretend there's alcohol in it."

            "Huh?"

            "Hello?" she said playfully.  "Anyone in there?"  She put her ice cold drink against his chest, causing him to jump back.

            "Jesus, woman!"

            "Is someone stuck on something I did?"

            Sands smiled.  "Gracie, you're far worse than a tease, you know that?  Hell, you admitted that you want me and…"

            "And still," she interrupted, "I don't act on it in more than a way that's driving you completely out of your mind."

            "You're not the same woman that picked me up off of the street two days ago."

            "I most certainly am, Sands.  It's just that I sort of…had to adapt to my new surroundings.  If you're going to say the things that you do, I have to protect myself by staying a few steps ahead of you…Don't I?"

            His smiled widened.  "So much like me that it's unreal.  If I would have met you last week, you wouldn't have lasted five minutes without giving in…"

            "Aren't we cocky?"

            "Can you dig it?"

            Grace laughed and sipped her margarita.  She played with her straw a moment before saying, "Why don't I hate you?"

            "Been trying to figure that one out myself.  I was sure you would have tried to push me down a set of stairs by now."

            "Makes you wonder doesn't it?"

            "Nope.  Remember that speech you gave me about sand and how it never seems to go away…how it always sticks in places?"

            "Stop right there – I've a feeling you're going to go into some odd analogy that I really don't wanna hear."

            "O.K., then – what do you want to hear?"

            Grace seemed to lose all ability to distinguish right from wrong around Sands.  She been making innuendos that never would have crossed her lips around any other man, but she couldn't control herself.  She had fun trading the words back and forth; she enjoyed teasing him.  She knew he enjoyed it just as much, which made it seem all right, despite his newfound handicap.  All this in mind, she chose her next few words very carefully.

            "I want to hear you scream out my name in a bout of carnal, animal lust."

            "I can do that," he quickly replied.

            "Sorry, Mr. I Don't Share Things – you know my stipulations.  No talky, no nookie."

            "So…maybe I'll talk."   


	12. My Saving Grace

            Grace spread her towel on the sand and stretched out on it – Sands joined her, sitting up.  "First tell me what color yours is," he said.

            "Huh?"

            "Your suit, Gracie, or what there is of one.  I'm guessing you're not part of the Bird Bird clan."

            Grace laughed.  "No, but if we're speaking in Muppet terms, then I'm Elmo."

            "The annoying little red guy?" he asked.  "Oo…_red_…Bold color choice.  I like it."

            "What don't you like, Sands?"

            "The fact that you're covering up perfectly good body parts."

            Grace shook her head and turned onto her stomach.  "So, tell me something that I'd actually _like_ to know."

            "I never give out information for free, Gracie."

            "No?"

            "Nope."

            "All right…aside from sex, what do you want?"

            "There's something besides sex?"

            "Tons, believe it or not."

            Sands smiled.  "Well, since you asked…"

            "Uh oh…I think I should have been more specific."

            "…my body _is_ still sore.  I bet you could heal me with those hands of yours."

            Grace raised an eyebrow.  "And I get, _what_ exactly?"

            "Well, you get to touch me, first of all..."  Before Grace could retort in some way, he added, "…and I'll answer a few questions for you."

            "Fair enough," Grace said, sitting up.

            "You _did_ notice that it wasn't hard to persuade you, right?"

            Grace put her hands on Sands' shoulders and began to rub.  "Your point?"

            Sands moaned thankfully.  "A personal masseur on top of everything else."

            "All right, you, time to answer a few things."

            "Just don't stop…"

            Grace smiled.  _Believe me, I won't…_  "How did you end up by yourself down here?"

            "Well, you see…mmm…right there, Gracie…After the circus decided that I wasn't doing my share…"  Grace stopped kneading Sands' back.  "Hey!"

            "I'm not going to do this if you won't take me seriously."

            A whining noise came from Sands.  "Fine.  I'm down here because I don't work well with others."

            "You don't say?" Grace said sarcastically.

            "I do much better work when I can…"

            "Manipulate?  Lie?  Steal?"

            "All of the above, Gracie.  For the most part, as long as I was out of my boss' hair, he didn't care what I did down here.  It's been…it _was_ heaven.  Now I suppose I'll be forced to, I don't know, retire?"  He was quiet a moment.  "I don't feel your hands."

            Grace resumed her massage.  "O.K., so how about the non CIA you?"

            "I don't really remember that guy," he said surely. 

            "Oh no?  I don't believe you."

            Sands let his body relax into Grace's touch.  He didn't want to talk anymore, but he didn't want her to stop touching him either.  "Fine…What do you want to know?"

            "Where are you from?"

            "Upstate New York.  What about you?"

            "New Hampshire.  Do you have family there?"

            Sands sighed, trying to play it off as enjoying his massage, but Grace knew better.  "Not anymore, no."  

            "Why not?"

            "What do you mean why not?"

            "Sorry, that didn't come out right…"

            "You know what, I think we need to reverse this."  Sands pulled away from Grace.  "Sit in front of me."

            "Wait, I thought you…"  _Did I upset him?  Am I dumb enough to pass this up?  No…no, I'm not.  _"O.K."  She moved so that she sat between his legs.  After a moment, she felt Sands' hands on her shoulders.  Not realizing it, she let out a breathy moan.

            "Like that, do you, Gracie?"

            "Uh…"

            He brushed her hair away from the back of her neck and let his lips graze her skin.  "How about you answer some things for me, hm?"

            Her head rolled forward, allowing Sands greater access to her skin.  _Why did I just do…Hell, it doesn't matter…_  "Shoot."

            "You may not want to use that word around me," he laughed.  "First thing I want to know: How'd you end up being in the right place at the right time?"

            Her body relaxing, and her mind following, she said, "I came here with my best friend – she _insisted_ I had to get away for a while.  After a couple of nights, she took off with a waiter from our hotel.  I decided to see the "Day of the Dead" celebration – or war, whatever it was, really – on my own and…you know the rest."

            "Just my saving grace, huh, Gracie?"  He fully kissed the back of her neck.  He smiled as Grace shivered in the sweltering heat.  She turned around and put her right hand on his cheek.  Slowly, she leaned in and kissed him.  There was no teasing, no pulling back after a brief moment…just final, much needed contact.  Mouths parted, tongues brushed…then it was over.

            Grace leaned her forehead against Sands' and said, "You shared, I shared…"

            "Gracie, I am _more_ than willing to share…"  Her finger was on his lips, preventing him from saying more.

            She couldn't get her voice above a whisper.  "Who are you?"  Gently, Sands took Grace's finger into his mouth and suckled at it; she was disappointed when he released it.

            "I'm what you need," he answered.  She leaned in to kiss him again, but he rose, a smile on his face.  "How 'bout we wade?"

            "Huh?"  Grace's guard was down.

            "Big wet thing over there," Sands laughed.  "I can't go in further than my knees, but it's hot as hell out here."

            _You're telling me…_  "Oh, yeah…Um…sure."  She got up and took his hand, leading him to the water.  "You know, Sands, that was…"

            "Dinner," he said, interrupting her.

            "What?"

            "Let's leave the room for dinner tonight."

            "O.K., under one condition."

            "What's that?"

            She smiled.  "Order something other than pork."

            "Only if we can order dessert _in_."

            "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement."  _This round goes to you, Sands…_


	13. Not Ruining the Fantasy?

            After returning to their suite, Grace began to dig through Sands' suitcase.  She pulled out several novelty t-shirts, a few really bad wigs and some fake facial hair.  "Uh, you work for the CIA, so you're supposed to be…um…stealthy, aren't you?"

            "Well…"

            "I mean, you have to stick out like a…"

            "Hey, really good agents want you to know that they're there."

            Grace laughed.  "Is that so?"  She continued to sift through his things.  "Is there anything normal in here?"

            "I was wearing it when I…when you found me."

            "Hmm…Well, it's a good thing that we're in a resort."

            "Why's that?"

            "Shopping – non marketplace shopping – is nearby."  She walked over to him and had the most terrible urge to pull him into her arms.  She fought it, and instead took his hand.  _He has to have the sexiest hands I've ever…_  "So, um, you stay here and rest…"

            He smiled.  "You're going to go shopping for me?"

            "How many women get to dress up their own living, breathing Ken doll?"

            "Do you need to feel anything for size purposes?"

            Grace let her hands reach around Sands and she groped his behind.  "No, I think I can visualize things well enough."

            "One for the road, huh?"

            She pouted, "Bad Grace?"

            "No, no…Good Gracie."  He licked his lips, tempting her.

            She didn't give in; instead she tousled his hair and said, "Behave yourself.  I'll be back soon."  She walked to the door and opened it.

            "You and I both know what you wanted to do!"

            "You can't prove a thing," she laughed.  She closed the door, leaving Sands alone.

            He sat on the couch and let his mind wander.  _She's perfect…Whoa…What?  She's a woman and there've been plenty of those…When I had eyes…Pity.  It's all pity…pity flirting?  No, I don't think so.  She wants me just as badly as I want her.  But why **do** I want her?  Jesus, I thought Ajedrez was the worst thing to happen to me…this is much, much worse.  It was easy to kill her…if I let Gracie any closer…she'll kill **me**.  I hardly know her and it's not like I've ever seen her…  There's the problem…  I don't have to see her.  Shit…_  Eventually, he was sick of his own thoughts and fell asleep.

            An hour later…

            "Hey, sleepyhead…"  Grace's voice invaded Sands' drowsy senses.  

            _Her voice…it breaks down too many barriers._  "Did you have any luck?"

            "I think so.  We'll find out after you get cleaned up."

            "Oo…bath time?"

            Grace laughed.  "I think you can manage a shower today, as long as I wrap you up again."

            "But everybody seemed to enjoy yesterday's arrangements."

            "You're a big boy, Sands, you can manage."

            "I'm a _very_ big boy, Gracie, doesn't mean I don't want…"

            "I'm going to get the bags."  Gracie got the plastic bags and wrapped them around Sands wounds.  After she was finished, she turned on the shower and left him alone.  "Call me only if something's wrong, O.K.?"

            "Yes, ma'am."  Sands actually managed to get through his shower with very few problems – Grace had made things as accessible for him as she could.  When she heard the water stop, she stood outside the bathroom door.

            "Everything O.K.?"

            Sands walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.  "Well, I made it out in one piece.  Anything you'd like to check?"

            _Oh, God…yes…_  "I believe you."  She handed him a clean pair of underwear, saying, "I'm just gonna, um, turn around and…"

            "You don't have to.  Remember, I'm not shy."

            "Um, anyway…"  She turned around and after putting them on backwards the first time around, Sands successfully got them on without any outside help.  "O.K., you can turn around…if you haven't already."

            "I didn't!"  Grace laughed as she turned around.

            "Were you tempted?"

            "About as tempted as I am to tackle you down to the floor right now."

            "You know, I could take that as either a good thing or a bad one."

            "Precisely."  She handed him the black pants she bought for him.  Once he had those on, she handed him a button down short-sleeved black shirt, which she helped him to button.

            "Am I any sort of fruit?"

            "Nope.  You're the man in black again."  She was surprised when his arms wrapped around her waist.  "What are you doing?"

            "Thanking you for dressing me more like…myself."  He kissed her neck.  "We really need to get past foreplay."

            "You're perfectly aware of the rules," she said, smiling.  "I'm going to take a shower, then we can go."

            "Need any assistance?"  Grace ignored him and went into the bathroom.  Sands managed to make his way to the couch, making sure to find the remote and avoid his thoughts.

            Forty-five minutes passed before Grace was back out in the living area – fully dried and dressed.

            "Shouldn't you take longer than that?" Sands asked.

            "I'm not the average woman," she said matter-of-factly.  

            "What are you wearing?"

            She took a seat next to him.  "The skimpiest red dress I own."  

"Mm, red again, hm?"

_Funny, he always asks about clothes, but hasn't asked what I look like even once…he mustn't want to ruin the fantasy he has going on.  Probably wants some blonde, blue eyed…_

            "Uh, Gracie?"

            "Huh?"

            "Don't tell me that I just wasted a perfectly good comment that you didn't pay attention to."

            "Sorry, mind drifted for a second.  Repeat?"

            Sands sighed overdramatically.  "Nope, one shot's all you get…but, uh, just how skimpy are we talking?"

            "Don't you worry about it."  She batted his hand away as he tried to touch her.

            "Come, on, please?"

            Grace laughed.  "No touchie, Sands.  C'mon, I'm hungry."

            "So am I…about that dessert…"

            "It's going to be a long night, isn't it?"

            Sands smiled.  "That's the plan, Gracie."

***

**_Author's Note:_**  O.K., guys, the major stuff's coming, I promise – I just have to set it up.  Thank you so much for the reviews!  They inspire me to keep going!


	14. Of Course It Matters

            Sands' hand was on Grace's bare back as they waited to be seated in one of the hotel's restaurants.  He moved his fingers just enough to send a tingling sensation down her spine and throughout her body.

            Once seated, Grace felt slightly more at ease, but not enough to ask Sands the question that was burning in her mind.

            "So, I can't have my favorite dish, hm?"

            "I'd rather you avoid any urges to shoot the cook, all right?  Expand your pallet a little."

            "Will dessert be worth missing my meal of choice?"

            Grace smiled.  "Maybe."

            "I'm glad that you finally seem to be accepting the inevitable, Gracie."

            Grace reached across the table and took his hand.  "What if I told you that I'm not so sure about what you really could go through with?"

            "Excuse me?" he asked, slightly confused.

            "Well," she said, tracing her finger along his wrist, "what if I think that you're all talk and a few scant actions?"

            He quickly reversed roles, taking her hand almost forcefully.  He brought her wrist to his lips and, at the most tantalizingly slow rate, let his tongue caress her flesh.  Grace all but gasped at the contact.  Sands lowered her hand and smiled.  "First of all, I can assure you that I don't say anything that I can't follow through with…and secondly, I think I just found one of your pleasure zones, Gracie."

            "Are you ready to spill your soul?"  Grace watched as one of Sands' eyebrows rose over the brim of his dark glasses.

            "Uh, why?"

            "Well, you said yourself that there's an insane amount of sexual, um, well, everything really, between us, and I'm certainly not going to say, 'Sorry, not gonna happen,' because to be perfectly honest with you I really wan…"

            "Have you looked over your menus?" a waiter interrupted in his thick accent.

            Sands turned his head.  "I'm blind, gimme a few more minutes," he said impatiently; he needed to know what Grace wanted to say.  "Continue?"

            She bit her lower lip.  _He doesn't care about more than what he's imagining.  God knows I shouldn't care or…  Thank God waiters always come to the table at the worst times – it worked out for once.  This would just get far too messy for me…_  "I really want the Pollo Tropícal."

            "No, no, Gracie.  What were you going to say?"

            "It's really not important…and far better left unsaid."

            Sands frowned.  "Thought I really had you."

            _So did I…_  "One step ahead, remember?"

            "Sure.  So, um, I can't see the menu.  Order for me?"

            "I can read what they…"

            He smiled, feeling oddly…rejected.  "I trust you."

            When the waiter came back, Grace ordered Enchiladas Especiales for Sands and Pollo Tropícal for herself.  She also ordered Tequila Sunrise for herself, causing Sands to whine like a child.  The twosome tried to make small talk throughout the evening, but it failed.  Sands knew that something was "off."  This afternoon he and Grace seemed to be enjoying themselves thoroughly, but now…things were strained and terribly uncomfortable.

            "Gracie, what's wrong?"  Grace ignored his question.  "I didn't think I pissed you off today.  Am I wrong?"

            "Sands," she said, her voice low, "there's some guy in a suit that's been staring a hole into the back of your head for the past twenty minutes."

            "Sure he's not looking at you?" he smiled.

            She nodded.  "Positive.  He looks kind of like – well, how I would typically think of some government agent like person…or a member of the mafia, kind of hard to tell the difference, you know?"

            Sands swallowed.  "Upstairs," he mouthed.  Grace immediately stood and took his hand.  Not having to pay a bill, they were able to leave when a large party passed their table.  It wasn't until they reached the elevator that another word was spoken.

            "Why did we leave?"

            "Aside from the fact that our date was a bust?"

            "Date?"

            "You, me, dinner, no conversation, no chemistry…no banter.  Remember that?"

            "Aside from that," Grace said, sounding wounded.

            "Well, I'm really not all that comfortable with suited men I can't see staring at me.  I'm not in the best graces down here…"  He chuckled at his word choice.  "I'm not in _any_ graces…"  Silence.  "Worth a try." The elevator doors opened and Grace led him down the hall at a quick pace.  Once in their suite, Sands continued.  "Government, cartel…either way, I just can't deal with it at the moment."

            "You can't?" she asked, almost laughing.  "You seem to damn confidant about everything else."

            "You're screwing with me, Grace!" he yelled.  "You've got my mind more fucked up than…"  He heard her footsteps leave the room.  The door to the balcony opened, then shut.  Sands made his way to the door, hitting his leg on the coffee table on the way there.  He opened the door and waited a minute before speaking.

            "Go," Grace said, her voice trembling.

            "Gracie," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, "I didn't mean to yell."

            "Please…"

            "What's bothering you?  What changed since this afternoon, hm?"

            "It doesn't matter."

            "It _does_.  I like trading the innuendos and…brief physical contact…"  His lips grazed her skin.

            "Stop!"  She pulled away from him, refusing to let a few threatening tears fall.  "Who am I to you, Sands?"

            "What?"

            "You have never once asked me what I look like, you know that?  You ask what I'm wearing and you flirt and you…you kiss…but, for all I know, you could be picturing…"

            "That's what this is about?" he interrupted.

            Grace turned to face him.  "Yes.  And don't say it doesn't matter because…"

            Sands smiled and his voice softened.  "Of course it matters."

***

**_Author's Note:_**  Evil cliffy, I know, but I had to run and wanted to post at least this much.  Next chapter is _the_ chapter! 


	15. Prove It To Me

            Sands put his hand under Grace's chin, but made no move to kiss her.  "I've been trying to picture you since you found me."  He didn't sound like his usual brash self at all.

            "You haven't asked and…it's stupid, I know it is, but…"

            "I _do_ know a few things about your appearance, you know."  Grace was silent.  "I know that your hair falls to just below your shoulder blades.  I also know that it's thick and, at least in this climate, somewhat, uh…wavy?"  Grace smiled, and though Sands couldn't see it, he felt the change in her face on his hand.  "By your last name, I know that you're Italian – at least partially – and I'm guessing that leads to someone who tans nicely down here and possess darker features…unless your family's from northern Italy which would…"

            "Southern," Grace whispered.  "You're…you're right…dark eyes, dark hair, well, highlighted dark hair but…God, I feel…"

            "Incredible," Sands interrupted.  "Well, that's what I've gathered from what you've let me touch."

            A small laugh finally came from Grace, easing some of the tension in her body.  "In the end, does it matter?"

            "Does what matter?"

            "What I look like."

            "Of course it matters – if you were a cow or something, I'd…"  He laughed.  "I can't do this right now, Gracie.  I can't be who I usually am."

            "Because you're too busy trying to seduce and charm your way into my bed?"

            He smiled.  "Pretty much."  The smile faded and he moved his hands so that they cradled Grace's face.  "I don't want to have to do things that way."

            "Why?"

            "You're different."

            Grace rolled her eyes.  "Oh yeah?  How many other women have been 'different', hm?"

            "I have better lines than that, Gracie.  You weren't wrong about me; I've been to quite a few of those bars you talked about.  All based on nothing more than exterior attributes.  I can't do that now, can I?"

            "How am I supposed to…"  She broke away from him again.  "How can I believe anything you're saying?  You lie for a living and you've been all about jumping into bed with me since…"

            "We're not in a bar.  I wasn't lying when I said that you've f…been on my mind.  I've been fighting with myself over you.  I can't see you and I never will, which is seriously fucked up and unfair, but it's like…"  He turned his head, embarrassed.  "…I don't have to, O.K.?"  The tone of his voice was unmistakable – he was speaking the truth and it was difficult for him to do.

            Grace smiled and said, "Going soft on me?"

            "The furthest thing from it."  Of course his answer was perfect when one thought about this man's personality, so Grace not only accepted it, but expected it.

            "I'd better not regret believing what you're telling me."  She took his hands and placed them on her hips.  

            "What are you doing?" he asked, surprised at where she had put his hands.

            Grace's voice was soft.  "Letting you see."

            "No pulling back?" 

            "No pulling back."  She kissed him and his hands took on their own lives.  They didn't begin to roam Grace's body as she expected them to.  Instead, with reluctance, he pulled his lips from hers and tenderly let his fingers trace the contours of her face.  He trailed them along her lips, her jaw, her nose, eyes…  "What are you doing?" she whispered.

            "Seeing you."

            "You've…changed?"

            He smiled.  "I guess that's something we're going to find out."  He let his hands go to her hair, momentarily forgetting that she had pulled it up.  "Take it down for me?"  Grace did so without thinking twice.  He smiled as he tangled his fingers in her locks and resumed kissing her.  He left her lips for her neck, causing her to once again shiver in the heat. 

            "Sands?"

            His lips didn't leave her neck.  "Hm?"

            "I know you don't like Sheldon – cute as it is – but I…if we're…I can't call you Sands…"  Her breath caught as his tongue played on a rather sensitive patch of skin.  "How do you feel about Jeffrey?"

            He pulled back, smiling.  "I can dig it," he laughed.

            "Jeffrey?" she said, testing how it sounded.  _Mm…perfect._

            "Yeah?"  His hands were now roaming her back.

            "Earlier today I asked who you were and…well, your answer was…"

            His mouth found her ear.  "I remember."

            Grace prayed that the man before her wasn't saying things only because he knew she wanted to hear them.  "Prove it to me."

            "Hm?"

            "Prove to me that I need you."

***

****

**_Author's Note:_**  Adult content in the next chapter.  If you don't wanna read it (Somehow, I don't think that's going to happen with this one) then don't – skip on to the next one…once it's written.  For those of you that do – it will be up soon, promise!


	16. Free Love?

            Sands and Grace made their way to Grace's room, their lips barely leaving each other the entire way there.  Sands had a run in with a chair, but could have cared less.  His reaction:  "Right now, I probably would have tripped over that even if I _could_ see."

            Before Grace knew it, both were on her bed, on their sides, hands roaming freely.  Grace had begun to unbutton Sands' shirt when he paused for a moment.  "What's wrong?" she asked.

            "Do you want this, Gracie?  And don't think that I'm asking for…I just need to know."

            "You _will_ go back to your usual self in the morning, right?"

            "Miss him?"

            "I seem to like this multidimensional personality thing you have going on."  She kissed him.  "I want this, Jeffrey.  I want you."  She slid his shirt off of his shoulders and let her lips explore his chest.  Immediately, soft moans began to escape _his_ lips.  Smiling, she let her tongue glide across his left nipple.  His hips bucked upwards.

            A seductive sounding laugh came from him.  "You _are_ kinky, aren't you, Gracie?"

            Grace smiled.  "I'll let you find out later."  She ran her tongue up his torso, his neck, then along his lips.  "Right now, I want things to last.  If I let you see the other side of me…"  She kissed him, her body beginning to ache for him.  "…you'd never last."

            "God, Gracie, you're killing me."  He chuckled.  "No better way to die though."  

            Grace kissed him again.  "Jeffrey…"  A lingering kiss on his neck.  "I've never wanted…"   Another heated kiss on his lips.  "…so much."

            "I think you missed something in the middle there."

            "Oh?"  She reached down to his pants and unbuckled his belt.

            "Well, I didn't…"  He smiled.  "Hm…I'm certainly not going to stop you."

            Grace undid his pants and slid them down over his slim hips.  He had kicked off his boots moments after stepping into her room, so there was no pause before the clothing left his body.  His arousal was far more than evident through the thin layer of cotton that remained on him.  Before Grace could work up the nerve to remove it, she needed something to relax her.  She got off of the bed causing Sands to whine.

            "Gracie?"

            "I'll be right back…it's just too…it's too quiet and I'm getting a bit…"

            Sands smiled.  "Aw, someone a little nervous?"

            "Shut up," she laughed.  She had her laptop on her trip with her – knowing that Cassie would wind up leaving her alone on some nights – and it was sitting on the dresser.  She opened it and, having left it on earlier, and pulled up the playlist she had saved to her desktop.  As soon as music hit her ears, she was far more at ease.

            "Music?" Sands asked.

            "Problem with it?"

            He smiled.  "No."

            Grace returned to the bed and had no qualms about ridding Sands of the last of his clothing.  "Well," she breathed, "at least you weren't giving yourself credit where it wasn't due."

            "Someone likes what she sees."

            She ran her tongue along his length and all comments ceased.  "Mm hm."  After a few moments, she engulfed all of him and Sands was audibly thankful.  His hands clutched at the bedspread and Grace heard him moan her name.  She forced herself away from his length and crawled up his body to kiss him.

            "Gracie, this dress has to go."  His hands fumbled a bit, but eventually found where the halter portion of the dress tied around Grace's neck.  The zipper was easier to find and there was soon a red pile next to the bed.  His hands gently fondled her breasts, which he was more than glad to find unrestrained.  Rolling so his body was on hers, his tongue found her nipple and he teased her in much the same way she teased him.  "I want you," he whispered in her ear.  

            Grace smiled, whispering back.  "Well, Jeffrey, you were right.  I _need_ you."

            That was all he needed to hear.  Sands slid the silk underwear from her body and couldn't resist weakening Grace just the slightest bit more.  He kissed his way down her stomach, then planted one slow, open mouthed kiss on the core of her being.  She yelped just as the song on her computer switched.

            _If you've been hiding from love_

_            If you've been hiding from love_

_            I can understand where you're coming from_

_            I can understand where you're coming from_

_            If you've suffered enough_

_            If you've suffered enough_

_            I can understand what you're thinking of_

            I can understand what you're frightened of 

            Sands made his way back up her body and kissed her, just as she had done to him.  She kissed him back, desperately. 

            She all but panted as she spoke.  "Jeffrey…now…please…"  

            _And I'm only here_

_            To bring you free love_

_            Let's make it clear_

_            That this is free love_

_            No hidden catch_

_            No strings attached_

            Just free love 

            _No hidden catch _

_            No strings attached_

_            Just free love_

Sands heard the lyrics far too clearly.  _Free?  Not so sure…  No, it is…we both want this and she can't possibly expect anything more from it._  He entered her in one quick, almost rough motion…then stopped.  _Dammit, Sands, you're already in, just do what you always do!  _He began to move his hips, his pace deliciously torrid…  

I've been running like you 

_I've been running like you_

_Now you understand why I'm running scared_

_Now you understand why I'm running scared_

_I've been searching for truth_

_I've been searching for truth_

_And I haven't been getting anywhere_

_No, I haven't been getting anywhere_

…but again he stopped._  Fuck!  I can't do this to her._

"Jeffrey?"  Grace's voice sounded so distant to him.  "What's wrong?"

"Gracie, I…"  _Christ, I'll regret this if I stop now.  What's wrong with me?  She wants me, she giving me…_  "The stitches in my legs are pulling and…"

She ran her hand along his face.  "Aw, poor baby," she cooed.  "I can fix that."  

And I'm only here 

_To bring you free love_

_Let's make it clear_

_That this is free love_

_No hidden catch_

_No strings attached_

_Just free love_

            _No hidden catch_

_            No strings attached_

_            Just free love_

She coaxed Sands onto his back without breaking their bodies apart.  She began to move on top of him – slowly, intensely.

_Hey girl_

_You've got to take this moment_

_Then let it slip away_

_Let go of complicated feelings_

_There's no price to pay_

            Grace bent down to kiss him, but with the rhythm her body was keeping, she bumped into his glasses.  "Jeffery?"  He moaned in response.  "I'll turn out the light, I promise…"

            Sands knew exactly what Grace was talking about.  "No, Gracie."  She stopped moving and he felt her body lean slightly to the right.  He then heard the clicking noise as the light was shut off.

            "Please," she begged, her hips once again moving.  Sands' response this time was to stay silent.  Grace moved her hands to his face and carefully removed his glasses.  She leaned down to kiss him again and pressed her face as close to his as she could.  There was only a faint trace of light in the room, coming from the moonlight outside, and she found herself straining to see his face.  She kept her movements strong as her eyes adjusted, and finally she saw.  His eyelids were closed and misshapen – with nothing behind them, they held no form.  The skin was bruised and looked terribly painful…  _My God…_

_We've been running from love_

_We've been running from love_

_And we don't know what we're doing here_

_No, we don't know what we're doing here…_

She stopped moving once again and lowered her face to his.

"Gracie?"  Sands' voice was laced with worry – something Grace was sure rarely happened.

"Shh…"  As tenderly as she could, Grace barely grazed each closed eye with her lips.

His thoughts sprang back to life.  _To hell with everything…_  Sands wrapped his arms around Grace as tightly as he could.  He kissed her as passionately as his lips would allow and he rolled Grace onto her back.  His hips moved smoothly as he let himself give in to something he vowed to never be a part of.  He gently pulled her hips upwards to allow himself to slide deeper within her.  Grace's body tensed and she cried his name out into the darkness surrounding them.  A few moments later, Sands repeated the action.  

Afterwards, Sands rolled off of Grace, each of them breathing heavily.  Grace was as far on the left hand side of the bed as she could get.  Normally, this is how Sands preferred it.  Actually, he usually preferred getting dressed and rushing out the door…but tonight had meant more than it was ever supposed to.

"Gracie, you O.K.?"

"Mm hm."

"Why are you all the way over there?"

She sighed before answering.  "Not ready to get up yet."

"I'm not either, but…"  He shifted so that his chest was to her back.  "…this isn't so bad, is it?"

"I hardly though of you as the 'cuddle afterward' type."

"I'm not – so don't get used to this or anything.  Come tomorrow morning I'm back to my usual self, but right now…"  He kissed the back of her neck.  "I'm the one who needs you."

***

**_Author's Note:_**  It was very tough to keep Sands in character through this scene, but I really don't think it's too bad.  If you disagree, please say so _nicely_.  He'll be back to his perverse, sharp-tongued self, I promise.  Also, for those of you that think he'd be more of a tiger in bed – don't worry, the story's _not_ over.  More fun to come – among other things.   I feel a little strange after this chapter – mostly worries about what you guys are going to think.  Sands does sort of need someone in his life now, doesn't he?  I mean, is it really so bad?  *loud gulp*  Oh, and I took some possible artistic license.  Eyelids.  Whether or not he had any after "the procedure" – I've decided he needs them…so…um….yeah.  

            Oh, I'm sure someone's saying, "Hm, why does that Pirate's Wench slip songs into her physical scenes?"  Well, the answer is simple.  When I hear a song while I'm writing a story, they can make me picture a scene the whole way through – it happened in "Struggle for Control" (both for the love-making chapter and the "struggle" itself) and it happened again here.  Sure hope you don't mind!  The song here was another **_Depeche Mode_** track entitled "_Freelove_" (hm, where'd that chapter title come from) and is on the album "_Exciter_."


	17. Rub A Dub Dub

            Sands woke up the next morning, Grace in his arms.  _Well, this is a first._  He nuzzled into her hair for a moment before stopping himself.  _Whoa, easy, buddy.  _He kissed her cheek, the whispered, "Gracie?  Ready to get up?"

            Her voice was groggy.  "Mm…my alarm hasn't even gone off yet."

            Sands smiled.  "No alarms here, Gracie."  He kissed her shoulder.  "I bet I could _really_ wake you up though…"

            Grace remembered what had happened and her eyes jolted open.  She turned to face him, seeing his features clearly in the morning light.  His eyes were closed, the yellows and purples looking so much more intense than in the dim light of the night before.  She let her hand caress his face, and it was only then that he realized his glasses were still off.

            "Shit…"  He tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let him.

            "Please, don't," she whispered. 

            His head was turned.  "Gracie…"  _She'll scream and she'll leave…then what?_

            "Jeffrey," her voice was soothing, "it doesn't matter.  Believe me, it doesn't.  I mean, it matters, but it's not going to change…"

            "Fine."  He turned his face back in her direction.  _If she goes, she goes.  Fuck, why can't that be O.K. with me?_

            "Open them.  Please." 

            "So you can run away and let me bang into every wall here?"

            _Not sure I ever want to leave this bed.  _Grace smiled.  "You would never run into the walls, Jeffrey.  And…"  She pulled him closer.  "…after last night, I'm certainly not running."

            Sands let himself smile.  "Want a repeat performance?"

            "Mm…several, actually.  Maybe once with a trapeze."

            A growl came from deep in Sands' throat.  _How the hell did she end up here with me?  _"Gonna let me experience the kinky side of you?"

            "You can experience whatever you want," she purred.  _Ever thought of settling down with someone?  Whoa, stop that, Grace!  You absolutely **cannot** take any of this seriously._

            _She's the most incredible…  _"Huh…not sure I want to know that I don't have to fight for it."

            Grace laughed.  "Oh, I didn't say anything about not fighting for it."  She continued to caress his face.  "You don't need to hide from me.  Whether I ever see you again after this week's over or not…you don…"  _Almost slipped up there, stupid._

            Very slowly, Sands let his lids open.  "Meet the freak with no eyes."  Grace's mouth hung open slightly.  Whoever did this left nothing behind.  She was sure that she _should_ have been disgusted, or if she saw him on the street, terrified.  She wasn't.  She looked into the empty caverns before her and felt tears running from her own eyes.  Not knowing what to say, she put her hands on the back of his neck and kissed him.  He kissed her back, immensely relieved.  _Why does it matter so damn much?_  He could feel the moisture on her cheeks.  _Is she…?_

            "Jeffrey?" Grace said, pulling away from him.

            "Yeah?"  _You're crying.  Why?_

            Grace wanted to ask what last night had meant to him, if anything.  She wanted to ask if they'd made love, or if it was only sex.  At the last minute, she decided that she didn't want to know the answer, so she changed her question.  "Are we going to…I mean, do you want to…about those repeat performances?"

            "Still want them?" he smiled.  _If you say no, I just might…_

            "You?"

            "Hell, yes."

            "I'll need to go and buy, um…you know."

            "Oh…Christ, I didn't even think about that."

            "I imagine working for who you do you have good medical and know if you…have anything…"  Grace felt terribly uncomfortable only now realizing the plethora of consequences she could be facing.

            "I'm clean, Gracie.  I wasn't stupid with the bar wenches."  Grace laughed at his word choice.  "As for the whole, um…_you_ thing…"

            "The pill," she confessed.  "But if we do, you know, I'd feel better if…"

            "Gracie, it can't feel any better than it did that way."

            "There's the pig that I'm oddly attracted to."

            "I told you I'd be back in the morning, sugarbutt."  His lips found her neck.  "Mm, salty."

            "Wanna take a shower?"

            "Not quite ready to leave the naked woman."

            "Who said you had to?"

            Sands kissed Grace much harder than he had before.  "Getting riled up so early, Gracie?"

            Grace felt his growing arousal on her leg.  "Makes two of us."  She began to paw at him, thoughts of what did and didn't matter leaving her mind.  "Come on."  She helped him out of bed and into the bathroom.  A few minutes later, both of them were under the water, their bodies sliding together as they kissed.  Sands kept his eyes closed to keep the water out, but in the back of his mind, he was still astonished that Grace hadn't "freaked out" over what he'd shown her.

            He felt Grace working a lather onto his skin and he moaned.  "Gracie…I'm almost eternally horny by nature…"

            "I'm very aware of this," she interrupted, her hand sliding along his arousal.

            "…but you make me crazy."

            "Is that a bad thing?" she asked innocently.

            "Only if you want to be able to walk out of his hotel in five days."

            She kissed him, now desperate with need.  "Let them wheel me out of here."

            Sands laughed.  "I think someone's secretly a nympho."

            "Guess it's not a secret to you then, hm?"  She gasped as Sands pressed her back to the wall of the shower.

            "I want you," he growled.  _I'm back…_

            _Jeffrey, you can't be good for me… _She forced the thought away.  "So take me."

            "You didn't make it out yet to pick up…"  __

            "After…at the moment, I don't care."

            Sands let his body begin to take over; he knew full well that both of them wanted a rougher pace than the previous night.  "You might want a safety word right now, Gracie." 

            She laughed, then began to nip at his ear.  "Banana."


	18. Becoming Sands

            Grace stood over the small stove in the kitchenette, a satisfied smile on her lips.  What did any of her thoughts matter, really?  The worst-case scenario was that she would go home at the end of the week with a hell of a story to tell people, not to mention memories of some of the most amazing sexual experiences of her life, and ten grand.  She was working on a couple of omelets when Sands came out from his bedroom.

            "Finding your way around pretty well now, huh?" Grace asked.

            Sands smiled at her.  "Guess I am, huh?  Breakfast?"

            Grace laughed.  "I think this qualifies more as brunch; breakfast was served in the bathroom."

            He made his way to her and slid one arm around her waist from behind.  His other hand pushed the hair away from the back of her neck and he nibbled on the flesh there.  "I could make several meals out of you, Gracie."

            "And I think I'd have to let you," she said, her breathing once again going ragged.  "But some sort of nourishment is needed, don't you think?  You know, we need our strength, after all."

            He pulled her robe down her shoulder and let his tongue glide across her skin.  "Mm hm…"

            "You're insatiable, Jeffrey."

            "And damn proud of it."

            Grace placed the omelets onto two plates, then made her way out of Sands' intoxicating hold.  "Come on, you.  Eat."  Sands sat down at the table and began to eat…almost hesitantly.  "Not good?"

            "Huh?  No, no, the food's fine, er, great.  Just got lost in my head for a minute."

            "Oh.  Everything all right?"

            "I had a sister," he blurted.

            "What?"

            "After last night and this morning, I owe you some of that information you were after.  Up for it?"

            Grace put her fork down.  "Yeah," she said softly.  "I mean, if this is what you want to do."

            A small smile crept onto his face.  "Well, don't stop eating, Gracie, you were right about needing your strength – there's still lunch and dinner to get through."  He heard a soft laugh come from her and was satisfied.  When he heard her fork scrape against her plate, he began to talk again.  "Rachel, my sister, was seven years younger than I was.  When I was eighteen, my parents died in a car accident – drunk driver…"

            "Oh…I'm so…"

            "My dad was the one who was drunk off his ass.  He killed himself, my mother, and the couple he slammed his car into.  It was inevitable and I can't say that the visit from the police was a surprise to me.  Anyway, being the 'legal adult' I was, and not having anyone else to do clean up my father's mess, I didn't go away to school like I was supposed to - I stayed home and took care of Rachel."

            Grace wasn't sure what to say.  What passed through her lips came out as, "You don't seem like the type to do that…I'm impressed."

            Sands shook his head.  "Don't be, I was a different person then."

            "Um, what happened?"

            "I went to a local college, still studying what I wanted to – criminology.  I didn't mind taking care of Rachel.  Our ages were far enough apart that we didn't hate each other…"  Sands cleared his throat.  "I did well in school - bet you didn't figure me for a bookworm, huh?"

            "Not really," Grace replied.

            "I finished up with school, started the process to get into the CIA…She was a senior in high school when I was given an assignment.  I'll spare the details, but she was killed by the men I was supposed to be…I started taking things in my own hands then…stopped 'playing well with others'…I became and there's no going back."

            "I like this," Grace blurted without thinking.  _Shit!  I said that out loud!  Oh, God…Oh God…Oh…_

            "Some people think I'm a fucking psychopath that's out to get himself killed."

            "Are you?"

            "Sometimes."

            "And the other times?"

            Sands pushed himself back from the table a little.  "Don't know, Gracie.  I seem to do a damn good job of making you moan though."

            "That you do," Grace said, relieved that Sands said nothing about her blunt confession.

            "I'm just a good fuck, right?"

            Grace all but chocked on her orange juice.  "What?"

            "What you like about me.  I mean, you know damn well that I lie, steal, kill…"

            "Part of the job, right?"

            "I've changed the job description.  The chemistry's here, we've proved that, but that's as far as it goes, right?"  _If she says yes, then I don't have to worry anymore._

            Grace forced her voice to sound confidant.  "Of course."  _Thank God he can't see my eyes…at least I know now…it's just physical._

            _There you go, no strings attached.  No worries, she's just like the others and she won't tear out any body parts…save for one.  Dammit!_

**_Author's Note:_** Sorry for the short chap and for the fact that it took so long, but I've been quite the busy girl.  Hang in there with me!  Twists to come!


	19. An Unexpected Visitor

            Grace and Sands were sitting on the couch; a movie was on, but neither paid much attention to it.  Each of them found that they were lost in their own thoughts; however, unlike the night before, the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. 

            Sands thought about Grace and the fact that after a few short days, he had grown so very accustomed to her…fond of her.  There was a constant war of pros and cons raging in his mind, and just when he felt he had come up with the right conclusion about her, something else would roll into his mind. 

Why was she so adamant about not calling me Sands?  Why not?  None of the others cared…but she's not like any of them.  Does it matter?  Yes.  Why?  Fuck!  Why can't I figure that part out?

Grace had been thinking about how Sands said he was "different" before.  _Has he ever loved anyone?  Did he leave someone behind?_  Her mind got the best of her…

"Jeffrey?"

"Yeah?"  He was grateful that the silence had been broken.

"Have you ever been in a relationship?  I mean, one that was more than just physical?"

He chuckled to himself.  "No, Gracie.  The physical works just fine for me."

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"You're forgetting about the bars – there's lots of them."

Grace cleared her throat.  "Have you ever thought about it?"

"Why?"

Grace felt her face grow flush.  "Just…making conversation.  It seems like you might _possibly_ want someone, but…never mind."

Sands' voice grew soft.  "Gracie, when I asked you earlier about whether or not this was all just…a good time, you told me the truth, didn't you?"

"Yeah."  She sounded so sure, but inside she was panicking.

"Gracie, please don't lie."

"What makes you think I'm lying?  I'm on vacation, you're…intriguing…and an animal that any woman would want to take to bed…and…"  The panic rang out in her voice.  Sands put a hand on her face, causing her rambling to stop.

"I can't, Gracie.  Even if part of me wanted to…"  _Part of me does…most of me does…and it shouldn't!_  "…I can't live a normal life – especially now."

"Why not?  You said yourself that you'd probably have to leave the…"

"Grace…"

"What happened to Gracie?"  Her voice sounded small.

"You need to understand that I live my life alone.  Look, I…"

"What was last night to you, really?  Not this morning, _last night_?  Tell me and I'll leave this whole subject alone and we can play the rest of the week out like horny little rabbits…"

"Gra…"

"Please!" she begged.  "If you want to tell me to fuck off, fine, but…"

"Last night…"  _Scared the shit out of me._  "…was…it felt good, Gracie…"  _I wasn't in control…I don't think it was solely about the sex._  "I'll admit that it wasn't like picking someone out of a crowd, but…"

"No…you don't have to say anything else.  I just, you know, wanted to make sure that we were on the same page."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Yeah, well…"

"You've been taking care of me, don't think that I don't appreciate that.  Don't think that after this week I'll forget about everything you've done for me…but, Gracie, you're being _paid_ to do it, remember?"

_The money doesn't matter!  _"Does that make me a whore?  Sleeping with you, but being paid off at the end?"

"Fuck, no!  If my life were different, Gracie…but it's not, so there's no use in thinking about it.  We can either spend the next few days like we have been, which both of us could benefit from, or…" 

A frantic knock on the door to the suite interrupted Sands' thoughts.  Relishing in a reason to get up, Grace made her way across the room.  She opened the door without bothering to look through the peephole. 

"Jesus, Grace, you _are_ here," a man's voice said.

Sands heard Grace's breath catch.  "Michael?  Wh…what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Grace.  God, I've been worried sick about you.  You aren't answering your cell, Cassie's worried about you too and…"

"How do you know what Cassie is?" she asked, an eyebrow cocked.

"Well, when I couldn't get a hold of you, I called her and she told me where you were."

Grace backed away from Michael.  "I didn't tell Cassie where I was going.  Nobody knows I'm here.  Michael, what the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Sands picked up on a trace of fear in Grace's voice.  He wasn't quite sure of where he stood with her at the moment, but he knew that he didn't like what he was hearing.  Unsure of what exactly to do at the moment, he simply called out, "Everything all right, Gracie?"

Michael took it upon himself to walk inside the suite.  He looked in the direction of Sands and asked, "Who the hell is that?"

"I'm Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, CIA.  You are?"

"Leaving," Grace said.

Michael was outraged.  "The hell I am."


	20. Don't Let It Get Out

"Michael, get out of here!" Grace shouted. "I'm not even sure I want to know how you found me…"

Sands chimed in. "_I'm_ sure as hell intrigued by it."

"Jeffrey…"

"Who the hell _is_ this, Grace?" Michael asked, his temper flaring.

"I already told you who the hell I am," Sands answered.

"And you're selling me some bullshit story about being in the CIA…"

"I'm not selling anything…" Sands rose from the couch and slowly made his way to where Michael's voice was coming from. "…and it sounds like Grace would like you to leave."

"What Grace does or doesn't want is none of your business."

"Michael," Grace said through gritted teeth. That was enough for Sands to find her and slide a protective arm around her waist. The relief that filtered through her was immeasurable.

"It's very much my business," Sands insisted.

"New boyfriend already, Grace?" Michael asked.

Grace let her body relax in Sands' hold. "A friend, Michael, not that it's any of your concern."

"Grace, just let me take you to dinner tonight, hm? Let me explain…"

"Explain what? How you tried to drain my bank account and…"

"Just let me tell you what really happened and, if you still want me to go, I will."

"It really doesn't sit well with me that you tracked me here…"

"You ran out of the country, Grace, how could I not be concerned?"

"I'm on vacation!" Sands' arm tightened around Grace, as if trying to calm her. Michael noticed this and wasn't pleased.

"Would you _please_ not touch her like that?"

Sands smiled. "She doesn't seem to mind it, does she?"

"Jeffrey," Grace said softly.

Michael reached out for Grace's hand and succeeded at gently taking hold of it. "Just dinner, Grace, and a full explanation."

Grace sighed heavily. "Then you'll go?"

"Well, if you'd still want me to."

"I will, believe me," she spat. She thought things over for a moment, then said, "Fine. Meet me in the restaurant downstairs at seven."

Michael smiled. "I'll see you then, my love."

"Nix the love shit, Michael," Grace said coldly.

"Seven o' clock," he smiled. He opened the door, then looked back at Sands. "Loose the glasses, buddy, you're inside." He chuckled and left the suite.

"You can't have dinner with that fuckmook, Gracie!"

"Why not?"

"Aside from the fact that he's a fuckmook?"

"Yeah."

Sands almost whined. "I don't like him."

Grace noticed that Sands was in no hurry to let go of her. "_And_?"

"Isn't that enough? I mean, I read people for a living and I didn't even have to _see_ this guy to know he's a son of a bitch."

"And that bothers you _because_?" She hoped that if she egged him on enough, she would hear the type of answer she was desperately hoping for.

"Well…you should really only focus your attention on one asshole at a time and, damn it, you're busy with me!"

Grace smiled. "You're not jealous that I'll be dining with someone else are you?"

Sands placed his mouth next to Grace's ear. "_I'm_ the one who's sleeping with you, Gracie." His voice caused her flesh to rise and her stomach to flip in a rather pleasurable manner.

"So what's the problem then?" she whispered.

"He was here for all of five minutes and managed treat _you_ like shit and piss _me_ off."

Grace ran a hand through Sands' hair. "Aw, Jeffrey, you care…sort of."

Unable to help himself, he kissed her, longingly, passionately. Grace kissed him back, hoping for more than she knew she should have been. Something seemed to click between them and their hands began to wander one another's bodies.

"Don't let it get out," Sands panted.

"Don't let what get out?" Grace asked, unbuttoning his shirt.

"That I care."

Grace smiled. "Care about what?"

"You."

"I thought you 'can't' have…"

"I think I'm willing to make an exception this one time." He kissed her again. "You still haven't made it out…"

"Don't care…"

"Wanna christen the couch?"

Grace laughed seductively. "Couch, floor, table…"

Sands let a growl pass his lips as Grace led him to the couch. He positioned himself on top of her as he pawed at her clothes. Again placing his lips next to her ear, he whispered, "Mine."


	21. I'm Not Jealous

            Grace kissed Sands' well-toned chest, her mind more at ease.  "Three times in less than twenty-four hours," she laughed dreamily. 

            "Day's not over yet, sugarbutt," Sands said, pulling her body closer to his.  "You know, I've never had this problem before."

            "Problem?"

            "Yeah…I can't get enough of you."  He kissed her neck.

            "So, you're an eternal hornball," Grace laughed.  "You're a guy, it's only natural."

            "You're going to stay here, right?  Blow off that fuckmook?"

            Grace sighed.  "I can't, Jeffrey.  I need to know why he's here."

            "Who is he, Gracie?  You don't _have_ to tell me or anything, but…"

            "It's sweet that you're jealous…"

            "I'm _not_ jealous," Sands said defensively.  "I just don't play well with others, remember?  Especially when someone else wants to play with my…"  His hand slipped between her legs, causing her back to arch.  "…toys."

            Reluctantly, Grace pushed his hand away.  "Bad boy."

            "Seems to be how you like it," he purred.

            "You really wanna know?"

            "Yeah, I do."

            "His name is Michael Crivelli.  We dated for a couple of years, then he proposed…"

            "You're engaged?"

            "Let me finish…and would that really matter?"

            Sands smiled.  "No, I wouldn't have done a thing differently.  Well, actually, there is this position that…"

            "Hey," Grace said, playfully slapping his thigh, "do you want to know this stuff or not?"

            "Sorry, I just can't help myself."

            "_Anyway_…we were engaged for a month or so when I discovered that my bank account seemed to have sprung a leak.  Long story short, he was stealing from me.  I confronted him about it and after a few lame excuses, I called things off.  He hounded me for a few months, then Cassie suggested a vacation.  I left without him knowing…at least I thought I did – now here he is."

            "Want me to kill him?  I can do that you know."

            "No violence necessary, Jeffrey."  She let her head rest on his chest for a moment.

            "Is he as devastatingly good looking as I am?"

            "Cocky much?"

            "All the time, Gracie," he laughed. 

            "Eyes or no eyes, Jeffrey, you _do_ seem to reserve the right to be full of yourself."

            Sands smiled widely.  "Someone thinks I'm pretty."

            Casting everything to the wind, Grace kissed him again.  "You're gorgeous."

            "Don't push it, Gracie."

            "I'm not trying to."  She let her body relax against his.  "I really don't want to go…so comfy here…"

            "Hey, I'm not the cuddling type, remember?"

            "You seem to say you're not a lot of things…then you change your mind."

            "You're too damn persuasive," he said, stroking her hair.  "I can make things worth staying for."

            "You're going to break me."

            "I take good care of my things, I swear."  His body began to move again and Grace understood the language all too well.

            "Hm mm…"  She forced herself to sit up.  "I have to shower."

            "We did that this morning."  The smile on Sands' face was the epitome of seductiveness. 

            "And then you went and got me all sweaty again."

            "And you loved…"  He sat up and kissed her shoulder.  "…every…"  Then her neck.  "…second of it."  He caught her lips.

            "You'd better watch it, Jeffrey, you're getting almost romantic on me."

            "We can't have that…I'll make up for it after your dinner."

            "I might be in a very foul mood after dinner."

            "Then I'll make it my duty to make you feel…extraordinary."

            "Jeffrey?"

            "Hm?"

            "You'd better be careful."

            "About what?"

            "Us."

            "What about us?"

            Grace bent her head down and licked a trail from just above his bellybutton to the hollow of his neck.  "I'm getting too attached."

            _Makes two of us then…_  "Physically?"

            She kissed him one more time before heading off to the bathroom.  "No."  

**_Author's Note:  _**Short chaps, I know….but better short than none at all, right?  Right?


	22. She Better Be Worth It

            Grace walked into the hotel's restaurant; she was dressed much more conservatively than she'd been with Sands.  She found Michael right away, he was more than eager to draw her into a hug.  She pulled back, feeling her skin crawl.

            "Can you not touch me, please?" she asked.

            "You let _him_ touch you," Michael snapped.

            "He hasn't stolen from me."

            "Let's have a seat, shall we?"  Michael followed the hostess to their table, Grace walking behind them.  When the hostess started to hand them their menus, Grace declined hers.

            "I already know what I want," Grace said.

            "Oh?"  Grace nodded.  "Acquired a taste down here already?"

            Grace's thoughts flew to Sands.  "You could say that."  She fought against smiling as best as she could.  Michael looked over his menu and made a quick decision.  When the waiter approached their table and asked for their orders, Grace smiled and said, "Puerco pibil, por favor."  The waiter nodded and wrote down her order.  "And the biggest strawberry daiquiri you have."

            Michael ordered enchiladas, then started talking.  "Grace, I never would have taken from you if it wasn't absolutely necessary."

            "What made it necessary, hm?"

            "I owed some people – the wrong people – a large sum of money and if I wouldn't have gotten it to them…"

            Grace cocked her head.  "Michael, what did you get into?" 

            "Is that really important now?"

            "Yes!"

            "Shh.  Grace, people are staring."

            "I don't care!  You stole from me because you were doing something you shouldn't have been and you have the gull to come here and think that I'll…"

            "Grace!" Michael said in a shouted whisper.

            "How did you find me, Michael?"

            "Don't worry about that…"

            "This is ridiculous!"  Grace got up and stopped their waiter.  "Please send this to my suite."

            "Grace, where are you going?" Michael asked.

            "Away from you."  Grace stormed out of the restaurant, Michael hot on her heels.  She took the stairs, not wanting to get stuck in the elevator with him.  Michael kept calling Grace's name, but she didn't stop walking – her pace had her almost at a jog.  She wanted to get back to her suite…back to Sands.  She fumbled for her room key, but she wasn't quick enough.

            "Grace, you're coming home with me," Michael insisted.

            "What the hell are you on?"

            "Who is he to you, Grace?  Why did you leave Cassie to come here and…"

            "Will you lower your voice?"

            "Afraid he's gonna hear me or something?  Are you fucking him, Grace?"

            "It shouldn't matter to you."

            "I want you back!"

            "This is a pretty shitty way of showing it.  Listen to me, I want _nothing_ to do with you."

            Sands heard the voices outside of the door and got up from the couch.  _Touch her and I'll fucking kill you…_

            "You had everything with me, Grace."

            "I had _nothing_ with you."

            "Ungrateful bitch!"  Michael slapped her face.  Grace yelped and that was enough for Sands.  He opened the door, causing Michael to be anything but happy.

            "Did you just hit her?" Sands asked, his voice oddly calm.  Michael was silent.  "Did you just fucking _hit_ her?"  Michael was still silent, but Sands could hear Grace's ragged breath.  "Gracie, go inside."

            Grace went to move, but Michael held her back.  "She's not going back in there with _you_."

            Sands smiled, now having his bearings on Michael.  He swung out his fist and made hard contact with his jaw.  Grace took that opportunity to go inside.  "Run before I send you straight to fucking Broadway."

            "You're a lunatic," Michael said, holding his jaw.  "You say you're in the CIA and you don't have a fucking clue as to who I am."

            "I may be a lunatic, but if I don't know who you are, it's not worth knowing."  Sands balled his fist again.  "Run along now before security comes to take you."

            "She better be worth it to you."

            "Worth what?"

            If Sands were able to see, he'd have noticed the oily grin on Michael's quickly bruising face.  "Everything."  He got up and made his way to the elevator.  When Sands was sure he was gone, he went back into the suite, shutting and locking the door behind him.

            "Gracie?"  She didn't say anything.  "Gracie, are you all right?"

            "I'm having my dinner sent up…it's your favorite."  Her voice came from the couch; Sands made his way to her as quickly as he could.

            "Are you all right?" he asked again, now sitting beside her.  Grace swallowed, but didn't answer.  Sands wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.  He kissed the top of her head, realizing that the inner battle he had been fighting was over.  He felt her body begin to shake and he knew she was crying.  "Gracie, did you maybe…not mention something about Michael to me?"

            "I always felt that something wasn't _right_," she said through her tears, "but I never really thought too much of it.  There was always talk about him…but when you love someone – or think you love them – you don't listen to it…"

            "Gracie, what's this guy into?"

            "Everyone always said things about the mob, but…I mean, that's all T.V. and movies, right?" 

            "It's life too, Gracie.  It's what I deal with every day…and it's what killed Rachel.  You still haven't answered my question: are you O.K.?"

            Grace pulled back a little.  "I just feel stupid…he never hit me before or anything, I didn't think I had a reason to worry about…"  She got up.  "You must think I'm an idiot."

            "No."  Sands got up as well, finding her right away.  He put his hand on her face.  "I need to make some phone calls.  Do you want to…"

            "I think I'm just going to go to bed.  Eat my dinner when it comes, O.K.?"

            Sands leaned in and kissed her, he was as gentle as he could be with her.  "If you need me…"

            Grace smiled.  "You really are going soft on me, Jeffrey."

            "Hey, I just punched a guy!" he said proudly.

            Grace kissed his cheek.  "Thank you.  Your hand O.K.?"

            "Takes a lot more than a punch to hurt me."  She hugged Sands tightly.  "Night, Gracie."

            "Goodnight, Jeffrey."  Grace headed off to bed, while Sands began to make some calls to find out what he could about Michael.

            _Meanwhile…_

            Michael was in a limousine, an icepack on his jaw.  The same man that had been watching Sands and Grace in the restaurant the night before was sitting across from him.

            "What do you want done, Mr. Crivelli?" he asked.

            Michael wasted no time in responding.  "I want him dead."  


	23. Comfy?

Sands knew the keypad of his cell phone (multiple cell phones, really) by heart, so there was no need for him to bother grace for help…he was far more than thankful for that.  He dialed his boss' home number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Why, hello there, Mr. 'we're too busy to bother with the guy who had his eyes ripped from his head.'  How are you doing this evening?"

Harold chuckled.  "I was wondering when you'd get around to annoying me, Sands.  How's the baby-sitter?"

"Not well, Harry."

"Sick of you already?"

Sands couldn't help but smile to himself, though he chose not to say a word about his time with Grace.  "She had a visitor tonight that I didn't care for."

Harold sighed.  "Did you shoot him?"

"Not enough time to find my guns."

"But you _would_ have?"

            "In a heartbeat – he fucking _hit_ her.  So…I hit him back – damn good for a blind guy too.  He said I should've heard of him though."

            "Oh?"

            "Yeah, then Gracie – Grace – said something about rumors of the mob.  Look him up would you?"

            "Does he have a name?" Harold asked.

            "Michael Crivelli."

            "Cri…"  Harold started to speak when Sands heard muffled sobs come from Grace's room.

            "I have to go.  Call me when you know something."

            "Sands…"  The line went dead.

Quickly and carefully making his way to Grace's room, Sands wondered what was wrong.  He walked through the open threshold.  "Gracie?"  No answer other than soft sobs.  "Gracie, what's wrong?"  Still nothing.  He felt his way to the bed.  "Gracie?"  _I couldn't have done anything._  He sat on the edge of her bed.  "Gr…"  _Sleeping.  She's sleeping you moron…_  He ran his hand gently along her face; it was moist with tears.  _Life was easier when I didn't care._  Grace was on her side, so Sands began to rub her back.  "Gracie, wake up." 

Grace's eyes jolted open.  As soon as she saw Sands, she sat up and clung to him, her breathing rapid.  "Jeffrey…"

"Hope you weren't dreaming about me," he said, smiling.  "Unless you were crying due to mind blowing euphoria."

"Michael," she said.  "Not a dream – a nightmare."

"I'm having him checked out, Gracie.  You don't need to worry about him while I'm here, all right?"

Grace pulled back and looked at Sands.  His glasses were off and his eyelids open.  "Did you rush back here when you heard me?"  Sands nodded.  "Like you pretty much said you never would?"

He smiled again.  "Whoops."

Grace brushed his hair away from his face and kissed him – that's when he realized that his glasses were in the other room.  He pulled back and looked away.

"Sorry, I…"

"Jeffrey, it's O.K."

"How can it not bother you?  It's imposs…"

Grace smiled as she interrupted him.  "It doesn't define you…and you're really good in bed, the shower, the…"

Sands laughed.  "I could marry you," he blurted.  He quickly added, "If I were that type."

"Oh?  Just because your 'condition' doesn't freak me…"

"No, but it's not important since I'm not that type."

Grace rolled her eyes.  "You keep saying you aren't things or won't do things, but then you turn around and…"

"What's important, sugarbutt, is that you don't let Michael the fuckmook upset you when you're trying to sleep."

"Stay?" she asked, nuzzling into his chest.

            He sighed.  "I'm expecting a phone call."  He wrapped his arms around her.  "Christ, why can't I tell you 'no?'"

            "Because," she yawned, "I'm good in bed too."

            _That should be the reason why, but it's not._  His cell phone in his pocket, he decided that there was no harm in staying with her.  He got comfortable on her bed and she snuggled into him.  He chuckled as he heard a sigh of contentment pass her lips.  "Comfy?"

            "Like you wouldn't believe."  There was a sharp intake of breath.  "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

            "Mm hm.  Wanna know something?"

            "Always."

            "Me too."

**_Author's Note:_**  Short, fluffy little chapter I know…but better than nothing, right?


	24. A Setup?

A vibration in his pocket caused Sands to wake up. He dug his out his phone and answered it quietly, as not to wake Grace.

"Got something for me?" he asked softly, knowing it would be Harold.

"More than you probably want at the moment," Harold said. "Why are you whispering?"

"Gimme a sec."

"Sure."

Sands carefully moved Grace off of him and smiled as he heard a slight sound of protest. _I'll come back, Gracie._ Without much difficulty at all, he left her room and found his own. "All right, tell me what you know."

"Michael Crivelli wasn't bullshitting you – if you were here in the states…"

"Not my fault that I'm not, well, all right it is, but…"

Harold was growing irritated. "Sands, knock it off."

"Oo, testy, aren't we."

"Do you want to know about this guy or not?"

The tone of Harold's voice let Sands know that there was, indeed, a need for concern. "Sorry, go ahead."

"Looks like he started out as a lackey for one of the New York families, then somehow got enough support to run quite a number of operations himself."

"Support? People or financial?"

"Looks like the financial led to people."

Sands spoke slowly. "Uh huh…and where did this windfall happen to come from?"

Harold sighed. "Your baby-sitter."

Sands was confused. "A couple grand can't turn someone into a mob boss…"

"A couple grand? Where the hell did you get that figure? Is that what she told you?"

"No, I just thought…"

"A couple million is a much closer ballpark figure."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Harold chuckled. "So she hasn't opened up her legs _or_ anything else for you, huh?"

_Why hasn't she said anything? Why is she…_ "She's loaded?" he asked, avoiding saying anything about Harold's rude question, though Sands never would have found it rude before.

"Yeah, really makes me wonder why she decided to take a measly ten grand to take care of your sorry ass for the week."

_A setup? Christ, is this all some sort of fucking setup?_ "Where's her money come from? Does she have a record or…"

"She's clean, Sands. But this Michael just showing up at your door…"

"I'll call you later." Sands hung up the phone and left it on his bed. _She'll come clean – **now**. My usual interrogation methods aren't an option – have to try something new._ He made his way back to Grace's bed and crawled in beside her.

"Missed you," he heard her sleep-filled voice say.

_What? All right, that proves it. All of this is a fucking setup. Set me up and watch me fall?…That's my job._ "Missed me?"

"Mm hm." Her eyes still closed, she found his body and tried to get back into the position she had been in earlier, but Sands wouldn't let her. "What's wrong?"

"Can you wake up for a bit, Gracie?"

Grace opened her eyes and sat herself up. "Jeffrey, what's going on?"

He smiled at her, his eyes closed. "I just want to talk to you, if that's all right."

Grace smiled back at him. "Of course it is."

"You know, I opened up to you about my fuck up father and my sister, but all I know about you is that you came here to get away from the fucker that wound up following you."

Grace's eyes lit up. "You mean you want to know more than that?"

Sands wrapped his arms around her. He lowered his mouth to her neck and lightly kissed her. "I want to know everything about you," he whispered. He was positive that his technique was going to work.

"And I get?" she asked, teasing.

"Whatever you want, Gracie."

_You, Jeffrey…all I want is right here. _She shut her eyes tightly for a moment, shaking away the thoughts. _Can't have you though – you'll be gone in a few days and you're really nothing more than a guy I've been sleeping with…right?_

"Gracie?"

"Hm?" She realized that she'd been silent. "Oh, sorry…so, where do you want me to start?"

"What do you do for a living?" _Let the lies begin._

"You'll laugh," she said softly.

"I won't." His tongue traced around her ear. "I promise."

"I own and run a shop."

"Care to elaborate on that?" he chuckled.

"I'm a movie geek," she confessed. "What I run is a shop that specializes in memorabilia and things that people pay far too much for on Ebay."

"And how's business?"

"Not too bad…not too good either. Honestly, I do it because I like doing it, not because I need the profits."

"Everyone needs profits, Gracie."

Grace pulled away from Sands. "Really, Jeffrey, I don't. I'm sort of, well, financially well off."

He acted surprised. "You don't say."

Grace sighed. "My father worked in the diamond district in New York City. He died of Cancer a few years ago and I…got everything."

_Why is she telling me this? Does she know that I know something?_ "Grace, if you have no money troubles, then why are you here now, hm?"

_Shit, what am I supposed to say to that? I can't possibly love this guy. I don't know him well enough…but maybe that's why I… He kills! He could be lying about everything – **everything**! Hell, he could work for… No. This is just me being a chicken shit about absolutely everything. People meet and marry in a day, so why is it so ludicrous that I could actually be falling in love with some rogue CIA agent that had his eyes yanked out of his head. Oh, right, that entire thought is just pure insanity…_

_She can't answer me…_ "Gracie, you O.K.?"

"I tried to think that it was about the money, I really did, even though I don't need it. It was more like an adventure though, you know? I mean, I find some guy on the street – who I honestly think I won't be able to stand – but I get offered a…"

Sands' voice took on a harsh tone. "Jesus, Grace, do you think that losing my sight takes away my ability to see through people?"

"What?"

"An adventure? What kind of lame ass story is that? This isn't some fucking movie! Why are you here?"

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. "Well, it _was_ because of you, but now I don't think that's the case."

"Me?" Sands laughed, coldly. "That's even less believable."

Grace's temper flared. "You're a fucking lunatic, Sands!"

_Sands?_

"Someone has feelings for you and knows damn well that you have them too and you try to turn everything into something that's meant to fuck with you!"

"You have fucking 'feelings' for me? This is the shit you're trying to pawn on me?"

"Why does it have to be shit?"

"_Look_ at me!" he shouted. "That's why it's shit!"

"My God, you're even more shallow than I originally thought you were!"

"Shallow?"

Grace got up off the bed, a nightgown barley covering her. "I'm sorry that your eyes are gone, but how many times do I have to tell you that it doesn't matter?"

Sands got off the bed, finding her with no problem. He grabbed her rougher than he had intended to. "And how am I supposed to know if anything coming out of your mouth is true?"

Grace's breath caught, but she refused to cry anymore. "I haven't given you a reason not to trust me," she said surely.

"That's the problem." His grip on her tightened. "I've never been more screwed up than I am right now," he growled.

Not scared of him at all, she asked, "Why's that?"

He pushed her against the wall, pressing his body and more than evident arousal against her. "Because I fucking love you."


	25. Can You Dig It?

**_Author's Note:_** Smut ahead – heehee – I couldn't help myself, guys, it just flowed out of my fingers. But who wouldn't want some steamy Sands time, hm? Enjoy! (More plot next chapter – though in a way there _is_ plot here…)

"What?" Grace asked, her voice barely escaping her throat.

Sands pushed his body more firmly against hers. "You heard me." He kissed her with raw desire.

Grace pulled back. "I…I thought…"

"Just tell me you're not fucking with me, Gracie."

"I was pretty sure I was," she said, her body reacting to his rough handling of her.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean," he hissed.

"Jeffrey," she panted, "trust me. The last thing I'd do is betray you. How could you think I'd…" She was cut off when Sands began to grind his hips against hers.

"You know I could kill you."

Grace couldn't believe how much Sands' demeanor was arousing her, she also knew that he was speaking the truth. He _could_ kill her, but, if what he said was true, he never would. Either way, he had no reason to. Grace licked his lips, then said, "You can do more than kill me, Jeffrey…you can make me live."

One would think that after confessing to loving someone, the rest of the evening would consist of tenderness…slow passion – but this is _Sands_ we're talking about here.

Sands noticed the change in the way Grace's body was moving – he liked what he felt. "Someone likes it rough," he said, his voice laced with danger.

Grace's body writhed against his. "Can you dig it?" she smiled.

A guttural moan escaped Sands' lips. "Gracie, I can do a _lot_ more than dig it." Without hesitation, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Grace's silk unmentionables, sending them to the floor. He sank to his knees and, with no warning for Grace, began to lap relentlessly between her legs. Grace's hips bucked forward, but Sands then held them firmly against the wall to keep her from moving.

"Jeffrey," she moaned.

Sands broke away from her only long enough to say, "Scream it, Gracie."

"Jeffrey!" She could have cared less whether the entire resort heard her. "God…Jeffrey!"

Sands laughed darkly. "Damn right I am." Eyes or not, Sands knew that he had power. He stood and found he didn't need to worry about feeling his way to the bed – everything moved fluidly. He spun Grace around and pushed her onto the mattress. He tore at his own clothing, removing everything quickly. He couldn't control himself as he climbed on top of her. "What do you want, Gracie?" he whispered in her ear, his arousal settled between her legs.

Her voice could barely escape from her throat. "You…"

Sands thrust into her roughly, causing her to yelp in pleasure. He bit on the flesh between her neck and shoulder as her legs wrapped around his waist. "Mine," he growled into her ear. He said it over and over and Grace couldn't help but love it.

His pistoning became more intense and Sands gripped Grace's arms, pulling them above her head and holding them there. Grace took to this quite well, the sounds coming from her more animal-like – serving to fuel the ravaging that Sands was giving her.

"Listen to yourself, Gracie. Listen to what I can make you do." He kissed her roughly. "I'd give anything to be able to see your face right now – all pink…your lips swollen…" His hips gained more speed. He grunted as he said, "I'm not letting this end anytime soon…"

"Promise?" Grace said, struggling for breath, a sinful smile on her face.

Sands forced himself from her body, taking a nipple between his teeth on the way. He smiled internally when he heard her gasp, then whine when he let go. "On your knees," he ordered. Grace couldn't believe how much she was enjoying him giving her orders – she'd hated any time Michael tried, but this…this was different in more ways than she could count. Grace quickly obeyed and, as the rogue agent once again entered her, let out a scream that she knew the people in the next suite had to have heard. Sands fondled her from behind as he said, "All of this _and_ a screamer…Jesus, Gracie…"

Grace honestly couldn't keep track of how many times she'd fallen over the edge, but after doing so with Sands behind her, she pleaded with him to let her take control. "Jeffrey…please…let me…ungh…have you…"

Sands smiled, his mind filthy. "What do you want, Gracie?"

She knew full well that he was looking for an answer that was far from clean. _He just told me he loves me – I think – and he wants me to say…Hell, why not?_ "I want to fuck you."

"Mm…she talks dirty." Sands pulled away again, letting Grace flip him onto his back. She wasted no time in resuming their activity. Her pace was rivaling his own, her teeth nipping lightly at his flesh – which he seemed to enjoy far too much. She let words that never would have passed her lips under any other circumstances fill the now sticky air.

As much physical pleasure as the two were sharing, Grace knew that whether he wanted to actually say the words he did or not – he meant them. The only problem was that she couldn't understand why she was so sure. She had brought the man beneath her to his breaking point…

"Christ, Gracie, I'm gonna…"

…then she stopped.

"What are you doing?" His voice was slightly pained.

Grace leaned down and kissed him. Not in a hungry or lusting manner, but in a deep, emotionally driven way. She echoed Sands' words to him, "I'm not letting this end anytime soon…"

"Gracie, I…"

"Shh…we played your way, now we play mine." Her lips met his again, not allowing any protest. She noticed that his demeanor was changing and he didn't appear to be fighting it. She moved her hips slowly, but rhythmically, and smiled when she watched Sands' head tilt back, his mouth slightly agape. "Someone likes it not so rough," she whispered.

Sands wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down to him. "Don't stop," he begged.

_ So, he wants this, but can't bring himself to be the one to do it…yet._ She smiled to herself. _That's all right, I don't mind being the one in charge for a while._ She rocked their bodies together; this time only slightly mewing as she found herself reaching what she knew was her final release for the night. Sands clung to her as if she was the only thing keeping him alive for the moment – he finally let himself topple over the edge with her. Both remained still, their bodies connected, their breathing heavy…Grace wrapped tightly in his arms. Silence.

Sands struggled with himself for a moment. _I never had to say it before…I never **felt** it before. This is letting myself get too vulnerable, isn't it? I'll **never** see her face…I want to, but I don't need to…this is enough. More than enough – but why? It won't matter if she doesn't feel… _"I mean it, Gracie," he whispered.

Grace smiled, nuzzling into his neck. "I know you do, Jeffrey…and God help me, I love you too."


	26. Jumping To Conclusions

            "Why, Gracie?" Sands asked, holding her body as close to his as he could.

            "Why what?" she smiled, knowing what he was going to ask.

            He licked his dry lips before answering her.  "You've been a fucking angel to me – one that rivals my personality, I might add – I never thought I'd find anything close to that…explains why I, you know…"

            "_Love me_?"  She emphasized the words.

            "Yeah, that," he said softly.  "I, however, and I'll only admit this once, have been nothing but a horny bastard with you…wait, that's not exactly hard to admit is it?"

            Grace laughed.  "Not at all."

            "So why, hm?"

            "It's suddenly so important to you why a woman would…"

            Sands kissed her neck.  "You're not just any woman, Gracie.  I wouldn't give a fuck about you if you were…"

            "Um, not quite sure how to take that," she interrupted.

            He chuckled.  "It's a good thing, I guess.  Don't make me beg you for an answer."

            "Begging, huh?  That really doesn't sound so bad."

            "I'm spent for the moment, Gracie," he said, smiling.  "C'mon, tell me."

            Grace sighed and snuggled further into Sands before answering.  "What's going to happen in three days, Jeffrey?"

            "What?"

            "When someone comes to get you, what's going to happen?  Do I go home and try to pretend that all of this was nothing?"

            "I…I actually sort of forgot about that," he confessed.  "Only three more days?"

            Grace swallowed.  "Mm hm."

            "Tell me first, then we'll talk about it."

            "You're an arrogant, horny, 'my way or no way' asshole, Jeffrey."  Sands pulled back a bit, not expecting those words to come from her.  "But," she continued, "that's the way you package yourself.  You didn't want me to see your face, you wanted to be able to hear the ocean…Jeffrey, you may _never_ admit this, but you're not the heartless bastard that you make yourself out to be.  We didn't 'fuck' our first time – you wanted to, but you couldn't and you know it.  You gave up your control and you let me let make love to you and, damn it, you liked it.  Last night too.  There's more to you than you let people see, but, for whatever reason, you're letting _me_ see it."  Tears began to fall from her eyes.  "I hardly know you, we've been more physical than anything…"  Her tears hit Sands' chest, causing him to lift her face and wipe them away.  "…and I love you.  I can't explain it and it's scaring the shit out of me."

            "You?" he said softly.  "I've never said 'I love you' to any woman I wasn't related to.  I've been screwed over by them one more than one occasion, but now the thought of being away from you is driving me absofuckinglutely crazy.  As soon as I got my eyes torn from my skull, I…"  He didn't finish the thought.

            "What?"

            "Huh uh, I'm not going to start talking like a fucking pansy."

            She kissed his chest, tasting her tears.  "Humor me?"

            "What, you want me to say that it took me losing my sight to finally see?"

            Grace smiled.  "Was that so bad?"

            "That's not me."

            Before speaking again, Grace sat up in bed, sighing heavily.  "How do you know, Jeffrey?  I mean, do you honestly know who you are anymore?"

            _I don't…Christ, I really don't…  _"Last week, my life was in order.  I was doing _my_ job, _my_ way.  You'd think losing my sight would be my biggest downfall."

            "It wasn't?"

            He shook his head.  "I broke my own number one rule: don't let anyone get too close.  I blew it once with Ajedrez – my punishment, losing my eyes.  Now there's you and…"

            Grace's voice was soft.  "I'm worse than some bitch that got your eyes ripp…"

            Sands refused to let her finish the thought.  It was nowhere near the truth.  He kissed her, and she felt something that she never would have expected from this man.  Tears fell onto her cheeks…tears that weren't hers.  He pulled back.  "I'm weak now, Gracie.  I'm fucking weak…and I don't fucking care.  When I walked out of that building and couldn't see a God damned thing, I thought my life was over.  I went out, guns blazing, sure I was going to die…most of me wanting to.  That kid brings a woman to help me…"

            "Come home with me," Grace blurted.

            "What?

            "I don't think I'm wrong in guessing that you don't have a home in the states and I'm not going to be able to just put you behind me…"

            "I hope you don't expect me to try and settle down into some normal life." 

            "What the hell else are you going to do?  You said yourself you'll probably be made to retire and…"

            "And just what am I going to do all day, huh?  Sit around like some worthless piece of shit?"

            Grace was quickly becoming hurt and angry.  "If I thought that, I certainly wouldn't be asking you, would I?  Jesus, Jeffrey, I'm just trying to offer you a new life – I really didn't think that would piss you off."

            "I…"  Sands had no smart remarks, no witty comments – he sat in complete silence, desperately trying to think of one, but realizing that he had become the one thing he never thought he could.  Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands was scared.  When he knew he was going to lose his eyes, he was upset, but not afraid.  While he was being shot at with only his ears to rely on, he was angry.  Now, however, he was scared out of his mind.  Scared that he let himself become dependant on someone – terrified that he didn't want to live a day without her.  _I've seriously fucked up here._

            "Is the thought of someone wanting to take care of you so terrible?"

            "The stitches will be out soon and I won't need…"

            "Oh!"  Grace immediately jumped to conclusions.  "So you can love me as long as you abso…_absofuckinglutely_ need someone to help you, but then you're done?"

            "Gracie, I didn't say…"

            "God, I am just so fucking naïve!  I can't trust a thing that comes out of your mouth can I?  You only say what you know people want to hear!"  Grace sprang out of bed, pulling the sheet with her – leaving Jeffrey in all of his "glory."

            "Don't you leave this fucking room!" Sands yelled.  He got out of bed, stubbing his toe on the way to her.

            "Don't tell me what not to do," Grace spat.  "Where's your phone?  I can't stay here anymore!"

            "You are not leaving me, Grace," he said, grabbing her arms.  "You can't walk out of here thinking you know what the fuck you're talking about and jumping to any fucking conclusion you want to."

            "Let go of me," she said, struggling against him.

            "Not until you listen to me."  His voice calmed down and his grip loosened.  "I've done a lot of fucked up stuff, Gracie, but I wouldn't say something like 'I love you' just for the hell of it.  Even I have certain limits."

            "How am I supposed to believe you?" she asked, obviously beginning to cry.

            Sands let go of her arms and caressed her face.  "You just have to trust me, and believe me, I know that's asking a lot.  I do love you and…going home with you doesn't sound like any form of torture, but what happens when you get bored with the blind guy?"

            "What?"

            "What happens to me when you decide you've had enough of your fucking adventure?"

            "And the arrogance is stripped away," she whispered. 

            "There you have it, Gracie, I'm fucking insecure now...anyone would be if life shit on them the way it has on me."

            "Thought you didn't want pity."

            Sands wrapped his arms around Grace.  "All I want…"  He couldn't finish, but he didn't have to.

            "Me too."  They stood in silence for a moment before they heard his cell phone yelling, in a Homer Simpson voice, "The mail!  The mail is here!  Oo!"  Grace couldn't help but burst out laughing.  "Cartoon voices on your phone?"

            Sands smiled.  "Have to be entertained somehow, right?"

            "Now I don't feel so bad about my phone playing theme songs."

            "C'mon, it's probably info on your psychotic ex."

            "There's a happy thought."


	27. A Personal Arsenal

            Sands sat on his bed, shutting his cell phone.  He was too quiet for Grace's liking.  She sat next to him, placing a hand on his back.

            "Jeffrey?  Message from Homer not so good?"  She tried to make light of things, but Sands didn't crack even the smallest of smiles.

            "Do you know how to shoot a gun?" he asked.

            "Huh?"

            His voice was emotionless.  "Have you ever fired a gun before?" 

            "Yeah." 

            Sands turned and smiled at her.  "Really?"

            "I get the feeling that excites you," she said, still wondering what news he had been given.

            Letting the tension he was feeling pass for a moment, his hand found her thigh and he said, "Well, if you can handle that kind of piece as well as you handle mine…"

            Grace slapped his hand away, trying not to smile.  "Even when something's wrong, you're a horny…"

            He leaned over, his lips grazing her neck.  "As long as I'm horny, you know there's hope for the situation."

            "And the situation we're in right now would be?"

            "You are _not_ to leave this room without a gun – or without me, got it?"

            Sands orders weren't exciting her this time around – they were scaring her.  "I'm really not comfortable with…"

            "Gracie, I'm not giving you a choice here.  When have you used a gun?"

             "Tell me what's going on, Jeffrey."

            He sighed, his hand stroking her hair.  "Mikey the psycho wasn't kidding when he said that I should have heard of him.  Gracie, he's into some serious shit.  Drug running mostly, but he's had hits put out on more people than…"

            "What?"  Grace was immediately frantic.  "No way.  Michael might be a thief and a tad obsessive, but a killer?  I would have known, right?  I would have known!"

            "Gracie, calm down."

            "I shared my life with a killer?"

            Sands bowed his head slightly.  "Technically, you still are." 

            "Well…you only kill the 'bad guys', right?"  Her voice seemed distant.

            Sands smiled.  "Something like that."  _Do cooks count?  I mean, God only knows if they wash their hands before they start pawing people's food…and there is the balance to consider.  O.K., that's a habit that I'm broken of anyway, since I'd never be able to find a kitchen in a place I haven't been before…_

            "Jeffrey?"

            Realizing his silence, he said, "You've reformed me, Gracie.  Only the 'bad guys', I promise."

            "I shared my bed with…"  Grace couldn't get passed what Sands had told her.

            "I'm sure he did a good job of keeping things from you.  I'm also sure that he had people do most, if not all, the kills for him.  He didn't sound like the type who…"

            "That doesn't make it any better."

            "Well, maybe this will make up for it a little: he didn't really start to come onto the radar until a few months ago – you already got rid of him by then."

            Grace sighed.  "Well, that makes me feel slightly less stupid I guess."

            "So when have you shot?"

            "Hm?"

            "A gun, Gracie.  When did you shoot one?"

            "Oh.  Well, my father was a collector and he took me to a target range a few times – nothing extensive or anything."

            "Better than nothing.  How's your aim?"

            "I don't know…it wasn't too bad, I guess.  I haven't fired a gun since…"

            Sands smiled.  "You don't forget, believe me."  He shifted on the bed a bit.  "Could you get the black bag that's in here somewhere?"

            "Sure."  Grace got up, quickly finding the bag in the corner of the room.  "Geez, Jeffrey, what's in here?  It weighs a freaking ton."

            "Personal arsenal, Gracie."

            "I'm gonna let a blind guy play with firearms?"

            Sands opened the bag and pulled out the gun he'd used to kill Ajedrez.  "I hate to tell you this, Gracie, but I killed four people right after my 'surgery.'"

            "Oh…"

            He cupped her face.  "They were 'bad guys.'  Well, three bad guys and one bad woman."

            Grace moved away from him, but realized that she had no reason to.  "Sorry," she whispered.

            "I'd have done the same thing."  _Glad you can't stay away though._  "Here," he handed her the gun, "pretend it's me."

            "What?"

            He chuckled.  "Get a good firm grip on it.  Get a feel for it."

            "Incredible," Grace laughed, referring to his comment.

            "Yup, that's pretty much what you said about me."

            "Damn it, Jeffrey…  Can you be serious for like five minutes?"

            He turned his head in her direction.  "Would you really want me to be?  Someone needs to take the edge off, right?"

            "The 'edge' has been taken off several times in the past…"

            Sands chuckled.  "Wrong edge, Gracie, but I'm thrilled to see where your mind is."

            "I love an incurable pervert…and sadly, have become one myself."  She smiled and kissed his cheek.  "Always expect the unexpected, huh?"

            "Good motto for the moment, Gracie.  Look, as much as I don't want to, I do have to be a bit 'out of character' for the moment."

            "I'm not going to like what you have to say, am I?"

            "I don't think so, sugarbutt.  The guy's here for a reason.  He's already hit you and, well, I'm sure my hitting him pissed him off…then there was the threat…"

            "What threat?" Grace asked, her eyes wide.

            Sands cleared his throat.  "Well, not against you, against me…"

            "Like that makes it any better?"

            "Fast-forwarding," he said quickly.  "He could have people anywhere he wants to in this hotel.  That's why you don't leave here alone and without something from my bag of tricks here."  He fished around a bit and found the tiny gun that Pelé refused to fire.  "Small, fits well behind your fly…"

            "Huh?"

            "Well, not that _you'd_ put it there, but a purse or pocket and…"

            "Jeffrey, I really don't think…don't I need like a permit or something?"

            Sands smiled.  "Gracie, you're with the CIA, remember?  You're not going to get in trouble, so stop trying to come up with excuses.  This is for your own good, savvy?"

            "You still sound like a pirate when you say that word…"

            "Guess you'll be walking my plank later then, hm?"  He handed Grace the gun and she took it.

            "I'm not a gun prude, you know?  I grew up around them and have no problem with them…it's just the being out of practice and, oh yeah, someone might try to kill us thing that has me on edge."

            "Nothing's going to happen to you, Gracie."

            "No?  Why not?"

            "I won't let it." 


	28. Have You Seen My Pants?

            Two days had passed.  Two days of paranoia.  Two days of worry.  Two days filled with physical intimacy.  Two more days of falling in love.

            The battle for both Grace and Sands had ended.  There were no more thoughts to whether their feelings were right or wrong.  There were no more worries about who they used to be or who they had become.  They had spent the last two days talking to each other, learning all they could.  Despite not being able to see, Sands knew Grace's body by heart, and she knew his.

            They refused to stay hulled up in the suite.  They went to the beach, they went out to dinner – both armed at all times…both constantly alert and aware of everyone around them.

            Grace had decided not to ask Sands about what he was going to do once the week ended.  After she asked the first time and wasn't given a solid answer, she decided it was best to let it go.  For now, he loved her – that was all that mattered…well, that and staying alive.

            Sands woke up in Grace's arms, realization knocking him in the back of the head.  _It's the last day…  Harold called last night – they're really coming to get me._  He listened to Grace's heartbeat.  _I don't have anywhere else to go.  I'll be debriefed and…  Fuck, then what?  O.K., let's think about this a sec…  Will things be the same under "normal" circumstances?  When she's back to her real life, not on vacation…  If we would have met when…  _He sighed.  _It doesn't matter.  It doesn't fucking matter anymore.  She asked me home with her.  Home.  I'm home right fucking here.  If the offer still stands I…_

            "Aren't you going to say good morning?" Grace asked softly.

            Sands pushed away his thoughts and smiled.  "Good morning, Gracie."  She kissed his forehead and an intense warmth rushed through his body.

            "Today's the day," she said, her voice obviously pained.

            "Yeah."  _C'mon you fuckmook, just spit everything out.  You love her, she loves you, what's the fucking problem?_

            "Did we worry about Michael for no reason?"

            Sands shook his head.  "Don't you dare put your guard down today, Gracie.  Understand me?"

            "Mm hm."  She was beginning to distance herself and Sands felt it.  He wasn't going to stand for it either.

            "Don't," he said, letting his voice soften.

            "Don't what?"

            "Push me away."

            "I'm holding you, not pushing you aw…"

            Sands shifted his body, he was no longer in her arms, but she in his.  "You know what I'm talking about.  We're going to leave here together and…"

            "And I get on a different plane in Virginia."

            _Grow some balls and say it!_  "Or," he said, smiling, "you wait around a few days and I get on that plane too."

            "What?"

            "Well, I don't know how long I'll have to stay in Washington, but I want…I mean if you meant…"  Sands laughed at himself.  "Congratulations, Gracie, you're the first person put me at a fucking loss for words.  You've made me babble."

            "It's cute," she said feeling much more at ease.  "You mean it?"

He kissed her, then whispered, "I mean it." 

Grace wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed him in.  She wanted to laugh and cry all at once, but settled for silence.  After a few moments, she finally managed to say, "I love you, Jeffrey."

"You just remember that, Gracie."

"_And_?"

"Hungry?  I really have a hankering for a big breakfast.  We could go downstairs and…"

"I'm suddenly starting to forget something that I _thought_ was important…"

He rolled so that he was lying down and Grace was on top of him.  "I'm such a sap now," he said, kissing her neck.  "I love you too."

Grace ground her hips, causing Sands to moan.  "So about that breakfast?"  She rolled off of him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said, almost whining.

"To get dressed," she laughed.

"No, no, no…dressed is bad, Gracie, very bad."

"But you made me hungry."

"Well, I'm fucking starving myself…but not for food anymore."

Grace sat on the edge of the bed.  "I need energy for…strenuous, yet highly enjoyable activities."

"Fair enough.  Have you seen my pants?"

She giggled.  "How quickly we forget.  They sort of…fell off the balcony last night – into the pool."

"Oh, right…well, you see," he said, crawling up behind her, "it was just so fucking hot out there…"

"I remember."  She stood again.  "I'll get different pants, you get off the bed."

"Yes, ma'am."  _Never without her…  Who gives a fuck that I'm dependant?  Not me…_

**_Author's Note:  _**Thank you, Shadow Phenix, for correcting me on where Sands would be going – I appreciate it!  Thanks for reading and reviewing – thanks to all of you for your reviews!  Ready for some drama?


	29. Can You Hear Me?

            Grace was staring into her grapefruit letting the past several days sink in.  She came to Mexico to get away from one man and wound up in the arms of the most unlikely of people.  She chuckled to herself.  _This isn't like a movie, my ass._

            "Gracie, you all right?" Sands asked.

            "Hm?"

            "You're quiet over there."

            She smiled.  "Sorry.  You know what?"

            He smiled back at her.  He always seemed to know when she was smiling – it reflected in her voice.  "What?"

            "I hate grapefruit."

            He shook his head.  "That was…random."

            "No, it wasn't.  They give you grapefruit with every breakfast and every time I think that it'll taste different, but nope.  Same disgusting thing every time."

            "Maybe it'll grow on you – I did."

            Grace blushed.  "Well, you have a very unique flavor."  She reached across the table and took his hand, then traced lazy circles in his palm.

            Sands smiled knowingly.  "Energy's back up, isn't it?"

            "Well, we should say goodbye to this country in the proper fashion, shouldn't we?"

            "A personal best," he chuckled.

            "What is?"

            "I've totally corrupted you – take away the couple of days where we weren't sleeping together and I did it in less than a week."

            Grace smiled, shaking her head at him.  "And you're damn proud of that, aren't you?"

            "Who wouldn't be?"  He stood up and Grace followed suit.  Automatically, their fingers laced together and they made their way out of the restaurant.

            Upon making it inside the elevator, Sands gently pushed Grace against the wall, letting his lips and tongue assault her neck.  A few days ago, Grace would have pushed him away, insisting that their behavior wasn't appropriate, but now she pulled him close to her and nipped at his earlobe.

            "Promises of what's to come?" she purred.

            "That and more," he whispered.

            The elevator doors opened and they exited, slightly less cautious than they'd been over the past couple of days.  Grace reached into her purse to grab the room key when Sands grabbed her, spinning her away from the door; he had heard the cocking of a gun.

            "Jeffr…"  She nearly choked on his name as she saw a bullet hit their door.  She then watched as her lover pulled out his gun, his body shielding hers.

            "Open the door, Grace," he said through gritted teeth.

            She once again dug for her key, but caught someone from the corner of her eye – Michael.  Instead of a key, she pulled out the gun Sands had given and pointed it at Michael.

            "You won't do it, Grace."

            Sands turned around yet again at the sound of Michael's voice.  "Fuck," he said under his breath.  "Gracie, where's the other one."

            "I…"

            "Put it down, Grace," Michael said, "before I make a mess of your fuck toy."

            "Michael what's the matter with you?"

            "I don't like him," Michael said with a smile.  "I tend to get rid of things I don't like.  After thinking about it, I wanted to take care of _him_ personally."

            Sands raised his gun, but before he could fire, Grace saw the other man.  She pushed Sands out of the way – the bullet intended for him hitting her in the back.  From his place on the floor, Sands fired, hitting the man who had shot Grace – only he was unaware that she was hit at all.

            "Jeffrey," her voice was barely a whisper.  She crumpled to the floor.   For the first time in Sands' career, he was almost unable to comprehend what was happening. 

            "Gracie?"  He rolled over, forgetting all about Michael.  Could he have seen Michael's face, he'd have seen a mixture of horror and satisfaction.

            "Jeff…"  The word turned into a gurgle.

            Without another thought, Sands got up.  He could hear Michael's ragged breath.  "Fucker!"  Michael's feet shuffled and that was all he needed.  He shot once, hitting the man's shin, knocking him to the floor.  That wasn't enough.  He climbed on top of Michael hitting him several times in the face.  He had a bloodlust coursing through his veins, but couldn't let himself kill him.  No, he'd rather see him put in a special part of a prison…where the guards tended to ignore the goings on.  If they wouldn't put him there, _then_ he'd find a way to kill him.

            Sure that Michael was out cold, he returned to Grace.  "Gracie?"  The hallway was now filled with people.  "Gracie?"  His hand went to her face.  He felt the blood trickling from her mouth.  "I can't see her," he called out to whoever cared to listen.  "I can't see her!  Where's she hit?"

            "Her…her back I think," a woman said, her voice timid.

            Sands reached under her, finding the wound after a moment of searching for it.  Warm blood covered his hand.  "Jesus…"

            "Sands?"  Harold's voice rang down the hallway.  "What the hell happened here?"  He nearly tripped over the first shooter's body.

            "Help her!" Sands screamed, his voice desperate.

            "Sands…"

            "Fucking _help_ her, Harold!"

            Harold quickly pulled a walkie-talkie looking piece of equipment from his jacket and asked for immediate medical assistance.  After he was finished, he knelt at Sands' side.  "Is this Ms. Milano?" he asked.

            Sands nodded.  "Go cuff the fucker over there before he wakes up."  Harold got up, doing as Sands asked.  Sands then ran the hand not putting pressure on Grace's back across her face.  Her eyes were closed.  "Gracie?  Can you hear me?"  He knew full well that she couldn't.  He understood that she was unconscious, but the words came out of him anyway.  Paramedics soon rushed down the hallway, taking Grace from his arms.

            _I'll fucking napalm this country if she dies…_


	30. A Safe Secret

            Sands paced the waiting room, feeling more helpless than he ever had in his life.  His parents, his sister…they actually paled in comparison to his feelings for Grace.  He had never needed someone until she came along – and just as quickly as he found her, he could lose her.

            "Sands?"

            He stopped pacing at the sound of Harold's voice.  "Do you know something?"

            "No.  Look, we have to get you back to Virginia…"

            Sands was appalled.  "Are you fucking kidding me?  I'm not leaving."

            "You need to be debriefed and…"

            "So defuckingbrief me here – I'm not leaving!"

            Harold decided to dig a bit deeper.  "Why not?  We won't leave her alone here, she is the CIA's responsibility since we asked her to stay with you."

            "I can't, all right?"

            "So you _have_ been sleeping with her then.  Well, you never cared before…In fact, from what we know of your actions down here, you were sleeping with Barillo's daughter, then you killed her."

            "The bitch took my fucking eyes, Harold."  Sands pulled off his glasses, causing the other man to cringe.

            "Christ…"

            "Ajedrez was a quick, dirty fuck – nothing more.  Grace is…  I can't leave her."

            Harold suddenly forgot about the hollow sockets before him.  "I don't believe it."

            "Believe what?"

            "Mr. 'I Don't Give a Fuck About Anyone' actually _cares_ about somebody."

            "I don't _care_ about her, Harold," Sands spat.  He found the wall and slumped against it.  "I love her."

"What?"

"I L-O-V-fucking-E her, all right?"

Harold simply looked at Sands.  Part of him wanted to ask him to put his glasses back on, the other…well, the other part of him was too stupefied by the revelation that Sands was even familiar with what love was.  "Are you…all right?"

Sands put his glasses back on, shaking his head.  "What the fuck do you think?"

"I have to go make a couple of calls.  Can I get you anything?"

"No." 

Harold returned a half hour later, two cups of coffee in his hands.  He handed one to Sands, then said, "I'm flying a surgeon down – he'll be here by six."

"A surgeon?  Do you know something about Grace that I don't?"

"Not for her, for you.  We can't have you running around with holes in your head, you'll freak your woman out."

"She doesn't seem to mind," he said softly.

"You let her see?"

"Yeah."

"On purpose?"

Sands grew angry.  "Do you have a fucking problem with that?"

"No," Harold said quickly.  "I just thought…face it, you've always been a bit cocky when it comes to women and…"

"She's not some one night stand, Harold.  She asked to see, so I showed her."

"In less than a week she managed to…"

"Do more than…"  He didn't finish his thought.  "I'll fucking kill that bastard if she…"  Footsteps approached the men, causing Sands to freeze up.

"You brought in Grace Milano?" a doctor with a thick accent asked.

"Yes," Sands quickly answered.  "What's going on?  Is she all right?"

"She is still in surgery, señor, she has lost a lot of blood, but things are looking better than when she arrived.  I will let you know when she is out."

"Thanks."  Sands voice was emotionless.  The doctor walked away and Sands put a hand to his forehead.

"You really _do_ love her," Harold said, things finally sinking in.

Sands slid down the wall, taking a seat on the floor.  "I'd let them fucking bleed me dry if it meant she'd be all right."

Harold took a seat on the floor next to Sands.  His voice was suddenly brimming with emotion.  "I thought you died."

"You got a phone call after I was…"

"Not down here, Sheldon.  When you were first on the job…when your sister was…I thought you died then.  You turned into someone who was nothing like the young man you were when I first met you.  That woman in there," his head nodded toward the operating room, "brought you back from the dead.  I'm going to have to thank her…then ask her to get you to clean up your language a bit."

"Yeah well…I'm thanking her first."  Then it happened.  Everything that Sands had gone through in the past week hit him with the force of a train.  Had anyone else been there with him, he would have continued holding everything in, but Harold was different.  As many times as they'd been at odds, as many times as Harold had given the impression of disliking Sands, he was the closet thing to a father Sands had – and Harold knew it.  Insults came from both ends, but were never really meant.  Fights occurred, but never held.  He'd been through rough times with Sands, but nothing that compared to the recent events in his life.  It didn't shock Harold in the least when Sands leaned his head on his shoulder and began to sob violently.  Sands would never admit to it later, but it didn't matter.  He didn't need to be his usual 'hard-ass' self then – his secret would be safe.


	31. Consequences

            A few more hours passed before the doctor reemerged.  In that time, Harold had gotten Sands to calm down, eat something, and agree to the surgery he was going to be given.  Sands sat in a chair next to Grace's bed, holding her hand in his.  She was unconscious, but he didn't mind – he simply had to be near her.

            In a voice that had lost every bit of its edge, Sands asked.  "When will she wake up?"  Harold saw the doctor's face, it didn't hold the amount of hope he wished it would have. 

"Well," the doctor began, "the wounds were…"

"Wounds?" Sands interrupted.  "What do you mean wounds?  There were only two shots – I only _heard_ two shots.  One hit the door and one hit Grace."

"No, señor, you must have missed one.  There are two entrance wounds in her back.  One punctured her lung and…"

"That fucking son of a bitch…"

"Easy, Sands," Harold warned.  "What are you thinking?"

"Michael…he fucking shot her."  Reluctantly, Sands let go of Grace's hand.  "Dr., can we finish this conversation in a few minutes?"

Unaware of what Sands was planning, the doctor said, "Of course."

"He's here, isn't he, Harold?  He has to leave with you, so he's here, right?"

Harold shook his head.  "I can't let you…"

"Take me to him.  I'm not asking you to leave me alone with him.  I need to know it was him first."

"Sands…"

"You know I'll find a way to get to him – at least this way you don't have wonder what I'm up to."

A sigh of surrendering came from the man's mouth.  "Fine."  He took Sands arm and guided him out of the room.  _At least I won't fire myself for this…_

The men went to a different floor of the hospital and approached a heavily guarded room.  After clearing who they were, the guards let them in.  Michael was propped up in his bed, his face bruised and swollen from Sands' beating.  The man had the gull to smile.

"She dead?" he asked.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Sands asked, not able to believe what he had just heard.

Michael raised his voice.  "Is your whore dead yet?"

Sands walked toward Michael's bed.  "You shot her," he said, his teeth all but gnashing together. 

Michael smiled.  "You were looking right at me when I did it.  I aimed for you, but I missed.  Thought you didn't care since you didn't try to stop me."

"Used a fucking silencer and already had it fucking cocked…"

"What?"

Sands tore of his glasses.  "I couldn't fucking see you!"

"Fuck!  Where the hell are your eyes?"

"Uh, Sands?" Harold said.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Sands screamed, he lunged towards Michael's voice, but Harold grabbed a hold of him.  "Let me the fuck go!"  He got out of Harold's grasp and reached out, finding Michael's throat.  He had only just begun to squeeze when Harold succeeded at pulling him back.  "She could die because of him!"  His voice had become desperate.

Michael rubbed his throat.  "She's better off dead, you fucking freak."

A sound that was nearly inhuman escaped Sands' lips and Harold knew that trying to stop him again would only result in getting injured himself.  He turned his back and closed his eyes.  Sands put one hand on Michael's forehead, the other over his nose and throat, the man couldn't move, or breathe.  Killing someone never had any consequences that Sands worried about before, but suddenly his mind was racing.

_What if I get locked up for this?  What if they think I'm fucking insane and lock me up for killing him?  He's in a fucking hospital bed, he can't defend himself…  Gracie…_  Michael passed out again and Sands let up.  He turned away and Harold turned around, relieved to hear the heart monitor was still registering life.

"He's alive?" Harold asked.

Sands shook his head.  "He tried to kill me, Harold, and he's why Grace is here…but I can't do it anymore.  She took my edge from me."

"She didn't," Harold insisted.  "She's just made you – pardon the word – see that things actually have consequences."

"If she dies…"

"I'll bring you back up here myself, no questions asked."


	32. No Change

            Sands resumed his position by Grace's bed.  The doctor was back in the room, picking up where they had left off earlier.

            "As I was saying," the doctor said, "one of her lungs was punctured, but we were able to repair the damage."

            "So, she's O.K.?" Harold asked.

            "Only time will truly tell, señor.  Her body is fighting off any impending infections, so she is running a slight fever.  When her body's ready, she'll wake up."

            Harold sighed.  "Thank you."  The doctor left and Harold couldn't understand why Sands had been so silent.  "Sheldon?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Can I…do anything for you?"

            Sands swallowed and his grip on Grace's hand became slightly stronger.  "How does she look?" she asked.

            Hoping to lighten the mood a bit, Harold responded, "Even blind, you managed to pick out a looker."

            Sands didn't crack the slightest of smiles.  "I mean does she look bad?  Hurt or sick or…"

            "Oh."  Harold understood.  "I'm not sure that…"

            "Tell me.  Tell me everything, please."  There was that word that rarely passed Sands' lips.

            "She's pale," Harold started, his voice soft.  "Her lips have that whitish look to them, they're probably dried out."

            Sands let his free hand gently find her face, then her lips.  "They are," he said.  "And she's sweating."

            Harold nodded silently.  "Fever, remember?"

            "I haven't cared since Rachel."

            Harold walked to where Sands was sitting.  "I know."  He placed a comforting hand on Sands' shoulder.  "What would have happened if Grace hadn't ended up in here?"

            Sands let himself smile.  "She…she asked me to go home with her."

            "A ridiculous request?"

            "I thought so.  I even asked her what would happen after she got tired of me."

            "And she said?"

            "She wants me to go with her…and I fucking want to go, Harold.  I don't have anything else anymore, do I?"

            "Sheldon, I can't send you out into the field in your condition, you know that."

            "Yeah…Can you believe I'm actually going to – I actually _want_ – to just go and try to have a normal life?"  He chuckled.  "Well, it'll be some fucked up normalcy, but the gist of it…"

            "You need to be grounded, Sheldon.  You don't know how many times I've gotten phone calls from people wanting to lock you up.  Speaking of that, why the hell were you killing off cooks down here?"

            "Word got out, huh?"

            "Yeah, word got out."

            Sands leaned back a little.  "Funny, I can't recall doing that…"

            "Señor Rawlings?"  A nurse entered the room, interrupting their conversation.

            "Yes?" Harold answered.

            "You are needed upstairs.  Something has happened with the man who was being guarded."

            "Sheldon, just stay here.  I'll be right back."  Harold rushed upstairs and found a doctor outside of Michael's room.  "What's going on?"  He was escorted into the room, Michael's lifeless body in full view.

            "Your prisoner has…passed away, Señor Rawlings," the doctor replied.

            "What?"

            "He had an allergic reaction to the antibiotics.  We did all we could, but the severity was…"

            Harold did his best not to smile.  "Don't worry, we won't file for malpractice.  I'll send someone for the body."  As fast as he could, he rushed back to Grace's room.  His heart broke when he caught Sands kissing her non-responsive lips.  "Uh…Sheldon?"

            "Yeah?"  He wasn't embarrassed in the least.

            "You got your wish, Michael's dead."

            Sands put his hands up.  "Hey, I was right here the whole time."

            Harold smiled.  "No worries, it was an allergic reaction."

            "He's really dead, not 'fake the death and get the crime boss to safety' dead?"

            "Really dead."

            Sands smiled.  "Fucker's gone, Gracie," he whispered.  "C'mon, wake up so I can tell you about how I was a good boy and didn't do it."

            There was no change.


	33. Grace

            "Don't leave her side, Harold," Sands said as he was wheeled from Grace's room.

            "I won't," Harold replied.  "Are you sure that you don't want to be put out?"

            "Fuck no!  If she wakes up, I don't want to be out cold.  If I'm only half done, I want to be here with…"

            "I don't know that she'd appreciate that, Sheldon," Harold chuckled.

            "Look, just…"

            "Come on, Agent," Dr. Morris, the surgeon flown in to give Sands a new set of eyes, said.

            "But I…"

            Dr. Morris shook his head.  "She's in good hands.  We're going."  As Sands was wheeled down several long hallways, Dr. Morris began to explain a few things about the procedure.  "Your new eyes are quite a scientific advancement."

            "Will I be able to see out of them?" Sands asked sarcastically.

            "Not that advance, I'm afraid.  However, they are far from glass eyes.  These are made of a material that will feel natural in the sockets and, if enough muscle tissue was left, will move naturally as well.  They react to light and…"

            "Gee," Sands said, sounding like an overenthusiastic little kid, "they do everything real eyes do, except what matters."

            "You want to keep the holes in your head?"

            "No.  Sorry, I just miss, you know, _seeing_."

            "I'd be irritable too."

            "Hey, I'm not fucking irritable," Sands snapped.  "Um…well…"  He sighed.  "Let's just get on with it."

            "You're positive that you don't want to be put under?  I mean, it might feel a bit…"

            "I was awake when they fucking tore them out."

            "You…what?"

            "Yeah, believe me, this'll be nothing."

            "All right."

            Sands was put on the operating table and given a local anesthetic.  He felt a bit woozy, but was still aware of his surroundings.  He heard other American voices in the room.

            "Doctor, what do you want on?" a female voice asked.

            "Um…U2 today, Sandy, thank you."

            Sands voice was slightly slurred when he asked, "You're gonna listen to fucking music while you're operating on me?"

            "It relaxes me.  But if you'd prefer a tense surgeon…"

            "Listen away, friend," Sands said, forcing a smile.  He heard music start and realized that the anesthetic must have been a bit more powerful then he was expecting.  Sounds floated in and out of his ears.  Thoughts came and went.  Memories became vivid, then dull…  Then something grasped him, keeping him slightly more aware for a few moments.

            _Grace, she takes the blame_

_            She covers the shame_

_            Removes the stain_

_            It could be her name_

            A song that just happened to contain the name of the woman who he'd fallen uncontrollably in love with filled the room.  The middle of the song was lost among chatter between Dr. Morris and two other people.  Sands wanted to ask them to be quiet, but his mouth wouldn't move the way he wanted it to.  By the end, they were silent and he was able to hear the last lines that Bono sang: 

_            Grace, she carries a world on her hips_

_            No champagne flute for her lips_

_            No twirls or skips between her fingertips_

_            She carries a pearl in perfect condition_

_            What once was hurt, what once was friction_

_            What left a mark no longer stains_

_            Because Grace makes beauty out of ugly things_

_            Grace finds beauty in everything_

_            Grace finds goodness in everything _

            "Gracie…"  Sands voice was a hoarse whisper, but Dr. Morris heard it.

            "Almost done here, Sheldon.  We'll get you back to her soon."

            **_Author's Note:_**  Very short chapter, I know…sorry!  But that's all I felt I needed here :-).  The song is called "Grace" and it can be found on U2's album "All That You Can't Leave Behind."


	34. You Know What That Means?

_** Two Days Later…**_

Sands' operation was a success and as much as he knew it shouldn't matter to him, he was elated to no longer have two large, vacant holes in his head. Dr. Morris was correct in all he said – it all felt natural; the only drawback was that since he now had the old, familiar feeling of working organs in his head, he had to accept that fact that he couldn't see all over again.

Harold had tried to convince Sands to leave Grace's room, but, save for trips to the restroom, he refused. He talked to her, held her hand…and constantly asked why she wouldn't wake up. She had no injuries to her head – he simply couldn't understand it, and neither could the doctors.

It was roughly three A.M. when Sands woke up, his heart pounding, his face moist. He had woken up from a nightmare in which he had lost Grace to Michael's dead hands. _I shouldn't be able to dream about people I've never seen…_ Fed up with waiting, Sands stood next to Grace's bed and began to talk to her.

"Gracie, you can't just stay in this fucking bed, O.K.? I mean, if we were both naked and screwing like fucking rabbits, that would be different, but…You can't just be there and not yell at me for saying stuff that should be pissing you off! You're O.K. and the fuckmook's dead, wake up!"

Grace was still and Sands let the thought cross his mind that it was possible that she might never wake up. _Maybe she just doesn't want to…_

"Did you get bored?" he asked, his voice softening. "Did you change your mind? Are you pissed that I'll never actually see you? I'll make you happy, Gracie. I don't know what you were looking for, but you found _me_. Are you disappointed?"

The fingers on Grace's right hand, the hand he was holding, moved ever so slightly.

"Gracie? You can hear me, can't you?" There wasn't any more movement. "Did you know that I can play the guitar? Of course you don't, I didn't tell you… El's not the only one who can do that. I know I can still do it too, because I never had to look at my fingers anyway…You like music, Gracie, and when we go home…" _Home. God, I want a real fucking home…_ "…I'll play for you. I heard a song – it was about you. I'll play it for you. Christ, Gracie, please, come back to me. I'm through with the shit down here. I want a life, Gracie. I didn't want one last week, but now…"

Her index finger moved.

Sands lowered his mouth to his lover's ear. "Grace…she carries a word on her lips…no champagne flute for her lips…no twirls or skips on her fingertips…" He began to break down. "Please…"

"He sings, too." Her voice was so soft that one could have easily missed it – but not Sands.

"Gracie?"

Her eyes opened slowly, and though the room was dim, the small amount of light that was present caused a bit of pain to her eyes. "Jeffrey…Mm…missed you…"

"I've been here the whole time, Gracie…Well, almost the whole time."

"Almost?"

"Gracie, I should get the doctor and…"

Grace shook her head weakly. "Take off…your glasses. Kiss…"

"Something happened while you were here, Grace. I can't see, but…your view should be less…" He didn't finish; instead, he took off his glasses – and waited.

Grace's eyes widened, not caring about the pain. "Oh, my God…"

"Is that a good 'Oh, my God?'"

Grace nodded, the whispered, "You know it wouldn't have bothered me if…"

Sands smiled knowing that she was being perfectly honest. "I know." He leaned in and gently kissed her. "There are just some places you shouldn't wear sunglasses." Grace smiled the best she could. "Let me call the doctor, all right?"

"Mm hm."

By the next morning, Grace was much more alert and coherent. Despite the pain in her back, she wanted nothing more than to be able to lie next to Sands – her wish was granted. She remained in bed, Sands at her side. With her head resting on his chest, she was filled in on what had happened.

"Grace, I've known this man since he first began to work for the CIA," Harold said. "After his sister passed away, he became…" He smiled. "Well, some would say…"

Sands laughed. "Psychotic? Is that the adjective you're looking for?"

"We'll use it for now. He never had qualms about killing anyone – but you seem to have cured him of that."

Grace lifted her head slightly. "Oh? How's that?"

"He went upstairs to visit the man who put you in here – _nearly_ killed him…but didn't. You know why?"

Grace smiled. "Why's that?"

"He was worried about something happening to him. He was scared that…"

"Hey, I don't get fucking scared," Sands interrupted.

"About that language, Grace," Harold laughed.

"It sorta grows on you," she chuckled.

Harold shook his head. "Anyway, he didn't kill Michael. His reward was that he died anyway, but you already know that part."

Grace snuggled further into Sands. "I'm proud of you, brown eyes."

"That being said, I'm gonna leave you two kids alone for a while. You behave yourself, Sheldon, the poor girl's been through enough." He winked at Grace and left the room.

"How come he gets to call you Sheldon?" Grace asked, pretending to pout.

"Eh, some paternal thing. I thought you liked Jeffrey."

"I do. It comes out naturally at the height of…"

Sands put his finger to her lips. "None of that until you're better, Gracie."

_ My, how the tables have turned._ "I'm going to be laid up for a while, huh? In the not so fun way?"

Sands stroked her hair. "'Fraid so."

She smiled. "Well, you know what that means, don't you?"

"What's that?"

She kissed Sands longingly before answering. "Sponge baths."

**The End**

**_Author's Note:_** O.K., guys, there you have it. Grace is O.K. and Sands has a brand spanking new set of eyes. Thank you all so much for your reviews! You guys rock! I have plenty of ideas for more adventures with Sands and Grace – if you think I should write more about them, let me know by pressing that little review button down there. However, I have some loose ends to tie up in some other stories first. I don't think I can just leave these two like this, so a sequel is probably inevitable ;-). Thanks again for reading!


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